


Fade Touched

by HeidiBug731



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Complete, Dragon Age - Freeform, F/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiBug731/pseuds/HeidiBug731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As difficult as it is for Varric to write Fenris of Hawke's death, it's even harder for Fenris to accept. Resigned to living as a wraith in the former Amell estate, Fenris' friends refuse to let him destroy himself. But his dreams of Hawke reaching out to him from the Fade might prove to be more than what they seem. (Takes place after the events of Inquisition.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Varric massaged his temple as he brought his quill to the parchment rolled out in front of him. This was, without a doubt, going to be the hardest thing he'd ever write.

_Fenris,_

No. No, he couldn't start there. If he didn't start the letter with "Elf" or "Broody," it'd be too obvious that something was wrong. Maybe he could tear the parchment and start over...

But no, he couldn't start the letter on a humorous note. That wouldn't be right either.

Varric let out a long breath. This was even more difficult than he'd thought it would be.

Where to start? He couldn't just come out and say the bad news - that'd be too jarring. But how best to ease into it?

Maybe take a step back from Hawke's death... look at the events leading up to it...

_I'm guessing news hasn't yet reached you of the battle at Adamant. The Grey Wardens went crazy and were using blood magic in an attempt to prevent future Blights. The poor fools were too desperate to realize they were actually forcing themselves into the service of Corypheus._

Yes, that wasn't too bad. He could live with that. He just needed to not think about it and keep going.

_The Inquisition fought hard and overtook the fortress, but Corypheus had an archdemon that collapsed a tower. Hawke and the Inquisitor and the others were on that tower. The Inquisitor was able to open a rift to the Fade, saving everyone's lives. We'd thought at first we'd lost everyone, but then they started to appear again out of the rift. Hawke volunteered to cover the exit as everyone escaped. By the time the rift closed, she hadn't made it out._

Varric took another breath.

_I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, and you know how much I wish I wasn't writing it._

Varric put down his quill to massage both temples. He knew this would break Fenris, and he didn't know the right words to say that could help. At length, he returned to the parchment.

_Please don't do anything stupid. Hawke wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger, and I don't want to have to write another one of these any time soon. Just try to stay safe. I mean it. Look after yourself. If you need anything, you know where to find me._

Varric ran a hand over his face, trying to think of how to end it... Nothing inspiring came to mind, so he signed.

_I'm so sorry._

_Varric_

He sighed and held the parchment in front of him, reading over the letter. It wasn't his finest work, not by a long shot, but it would have to do.

 

* * *

 

Fenris' hands shook as he read. His eyes took in the lines over and over, but he was having trouble believing them. It couldn't be...

She had promised. They had both promised.

With a cry of rage, Fenris crumpled the letter and threw it from him.

He never should have left her side, never should have let her talk him into it. She'd been worried he'd volunteer his life to keep her safe. And she'd been right. He would have. It should have been him who'd been lost to the Fade.

He'd only agreed to separate from her if she promised to stay alive. And she had done so.

She'd lied to him. She'd abandoned him.

Fenris let out another cry and drove his fist into the nearest tree. The lyrium marks on his skin let his hand slide into the wood as though it was air. And then, with power from those same markings, he let his rage flow down his arm and into his hand. He opened his fist, releasing his anger, and the tree exploded, splinters flying.

If there were slavers in the area, they'd hear him, and he'd slaughter them all.

 

* * *

 

He was lost after dealing with the slavers. Exhaustion eventually took him and he fell asleep amongst the bloody mess to images of Hawke wandering a green and twisted landscape. He awoke shaking his head, trying to rid his mind of the dream. He'd been in the Fade once, and it hadn't been a pleasant experience. He didn't want to think about what Hawke's final moments in there might have been. He didn't want to think about Hawke's final moments at all.

His limbs hung heavy from his body as he managed to his feet and surveyed the destruction he'd wrought. He'd had a purpose here, dealing with slavers who sought to take advantage of the chaos brought on by the mage-templar war and later by the Breach.

The Breach was still open. Chaos still reigned. He could still have a purpose here...

But he couldn't see it. His head and his heart were no longer in it.

He let his feet direct him – his head in too thick a fog of grief to think straight. He arrived in Kirkwall before he knew it was his destination. How many days it took him to get there… he would never be sure.

The city had seen better days, and he might even list the time the Qunari invaded as one of them. In a strange way, he found the crumbling streets and destitute citizens reflective of his pain. Their grieved faces were his emotions. The battered structures were his own limbs. He was worn and tired when he reached Hawke's doorstep. Or at least, what had been her doorstep. He had no idea who owned it now, if anyone, since Hawke had left.

He tried the door and found it open.

For a moment, he worried he would walk in on some happy family. His dread melted away when he found the mansion housed a band of thugs too used to the solace the disorder provided to post guards or keep the building locked.

Fenris' wariness left him as the lyrium burned against his skill. He'd take joy in ridding Hawke's home of these pests.

 

* * *

 

Hawke's bed was still intact, and he collapsed upon it once he'd finished disposing of the bodies. There was still a mess to clean, but that would come later... when he felt up to it.

Her scent was still on the pillow as if the thugs had never used this room, as if they'd left it blissfully undisturbed. Or maybe it was his imagination. Maybe he wanted to be with her so badly, his senses were playing tricks on him. Maybe he didn't care which was true.

He fell into a deep sleep, filled with images of the Fade and Hawke reaching out to him. 

 

* * *

 

He would become a wraith – that was his decision. Just as he had once haunted Denarious' mansion, he would now haunt Hawke's. His life's mission would become keeping it clean of any intruders. At night, he'd sleep in her bed and dream of her. And in the day, he'd numb his pain with whatever alcohol he could find and whatever violence he needed to enact to keep her home free of intruders.

He'd never stayed at her house when she'd wanted him to, when they'd been together and he'd had the chance to experience living under the same roof as her. It was only fitting he'd make up for it now.

It wasn't the prefect plan, but he was content with it... until the day  _she_ appeared.

Fenris heard the front door open – slowly, as though the entrant wasn't sure they should be there. He left Hawke's room to investigate and found Aveline standing in the living area below.

"A little late, don't you think?" Fenris asked from the balcony.

Aveline looked up at him, her face unchanging as though she had expected him to be there. "I heard there was a disturbance in this area. I had hoped it wasn't you."

"Well, it is." Fenris bowed to her in mockery. Then raised a bottle to his lips, taking a drink. "I did your job for you, Captain. You should be grateful."

Aveline sighed and rubbed her forehead, as she often did when holding back a comment. At last, she spoke. "This isn't the way, Fenris."

He drank again from the bottle. "You weren't too concerned with the rabble that filled this place, so I took care of it." He considered the bottle for a moment, judging its worth, then threw it at her. He missed, the bottle flying over her head and shattering on the far wall. She didn't move from her spot, seemingly unfazed by his outburst. No matter, his point had been made. "It's my pain." He told her, turning away. "Who has the right to tell me how to deal with it?"

He wanted her to go so he could return to Hawke's bed and the alcohol and his plan to waste away in peace. But he heard her footsteps as she moved toward the stairs. "Hawke wouldn't want this for you."

Anger flared inside him and he spun around. "If Hawke didn't want this, she wouldn't have gone off and died!" he spat. "She promised! We both promised. And what good was it?" His voice broke, and he continued yelling in an attempt to cover it up. "She died and left me here. Well, to the Fade with it! To the Fade with her!"

The words didn't hit him till they were out of his mouth.  _To the Fade with her?_ His knees gave out and he leaned against the balcony railing to hold himself up. He didn't mean it. Maker, he didn't mean it.

"Oh, Fenris..." said Aveline, frozen on the stairs below.

He raised a shaking hand to his eyes. He was tired – tired of feeling angry, tired of feeling like someone had scooped out his insides and left him raw and bleeding. "I don't want your sympathy."

"Well, you have it," said Aveline. Her footsteps started again as she continued up the stairs.

"Just go away." He turned from the balcony, heading instead for Hawke's room, hoping that if he could reach it, he could shut the rest of the world out.

But Aveline wouldn't settle for it. "I'm your friend, Fenris." She was on the landing now, coming toward him "I just want to help."

"You can't help." He waved her off, but her gloved hand wrapped around his forearm.

"Fenris-"

The lyrium in his skin glowed white and hot. "I don't want to hurt you, Aveline." She was pushing his buttons and he was irritable, but the last thing he wanted was to treat her as he'd done the bandits.

She studied him, her eyes sweeping up and down his body in one swift motion. "I think you're too drunk to try."

Enough was enough. He pulled his arm from her grasp, staggering back a few steps from the effort. Before he could focus his energy, Aveline's shield came in front of her. He felt the full force of it as it knocked the air out of him.

A merciful darkness took him in which there were no dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke with a pounding headache. Sitting up, he realized he was on a cot. A thin and ratty blanket lay draped over him. The room was spinning.

“Oh! You're awake!” said a far too chipper voice.

“Merrill.” Fenris groaned. He closed his eyes and pressed a fist between them in an attempt to stop both the spinning and the pounding.

She grasped his shoulders and pushed him back down on the cot. “You need rest.”

He didn't argue. His body ached, in addition to the pain in his head. He was all to happy to lay down again. At least there the spinning didn't seem so bad.

But before too long, Merrill was back, helping him to sit and pushing a ladle of water into his hands.

He drank several ladles until his stomach protested. Then Merrill handed him a mug of something hot and smelling of grass and earth. He didn't want to drink it, but she insisted and her voice hurt his head. So he drank to shut her up.

The liquid went down thick and tasted as bad as it smelled. He gagged in disgust but finished the mug. The liquid warmed and soothed his stomach, making him sleepy.

He lay back down, and Merrill left him to rest.

 

* * *

 

_Hawke readied her sword at the sound of footsteps coming toward her, then hesitated as she saw the enemy. The figure was dressed in rags, its skin rotting away as it reached toward her with grasping hands. Its body shook with each footstep as though the muscles didn't work of their own accord but were pulled by some unseen force._

_Undead._

_Steeling herself, she hastened forward and stuck the creature down with her blade. But in the distance, she could see others coming toward her and more rising out of a green and bubbling lake._

_She turned to flee, then looked up, her hand stretching out-_

Hawke's eyes, wide and pleading, bore into his mind as a single image.

“Fenris!”

Merrill was shaking him. He opened his eyes to find her leaning over him with a candle in her hand. He turned his face away, his eyes taking offense to the glare.

“You were yelling in your sleep.”

“What did I say?” he asked, fearful of her answer.

“H-Hawke.” She admitted, hesitating.

He sighed. Did she think him weak? Some poor fool driven mad with grief? “I'm all right. Merrill.”

She rubbed his arm in what he was certain she meant as an encouraging gesture. But he didn't want her sympathy any more than he had wanted Aveline's.

“I didn't want you waking everyone up.”

She stepped away from him, and he turned over in her direction. The light from the candle illuminated some of the surroundings he'd failed to notice when his headache and dizziness had distracted him.

He was lying in a small room lined with a handful of cots and sleeping occupants, leaving only enough space for Merrill to walk between them.

“Merrill,” he said as she busied herself in a large standing cabinet. “Where-?”

“This is my home,” she told him. “Or was, I guess. Moved most of my furniture out and turned it into an infirmary. It was sorely needed when the fighting between the mages and Templars broke out.” She took a few vials and emptied their contents into a mug. “It’s had less use since the war’s calmed down. I can sleep in my own bed now.” She added water to the mug and stirred. She walked over to his cot and held it out him. “I’m afraid it’s cold this time. Should still be good, though.”

“Ugh.” Fenris turned his face away, recognizing the smell from the previous drink she’d given him.

“It will help with your head.” She told him.

“My head’s doing much better, thank you.” He tried waving her away. He wasn’t lying. He did feel better, though his head still pounded.

“Drink it now,” she said. “And you won’t have to drink it in the morning.”

He wasn’t sure how that was a compromise, but he knew she wouldn’t leave him alone. So he took the mug and swallowed it as quickly as possible. He thought it tasted slightly better warm, but at least she let him wash it down with plenty of water.

He felt sleepy almost immediately – an effect of whatever she’d given him. As he laid down again, Merrill checked the cots around him, pausing at one to assure its occupant that all was well. “Go back to sleep, da’len.”

His last thought before darkness took him once again was that Merrill, in her own way, had become Keeper of a clan of alienage elves.

 

* * *

 

Merrill released him from the infirmary the next day. He was feeling much better, though he got a rude reminder that the effects from the alcohol hadn’t completely worn off when he stepped outside and the bright sun caused pain to explode behind his eyes.

When he had time to adjust, he was surprised to discover the alienage was completely barricaded in. Lose boards, tables, chairs – whatever the elves had to use had been disassembled and nailed up to fill in the holes of the iron gate that barred the alienage from the rest of the city. He was just wondering how the elves didn’t run out of food when he noticed the garden that had been planted around the tree in the center of the alienage. A well stood off to side for gathering fresh water.

Similar materials were used to form a wall on the side of the alienage that used to open up to the ocean’s inlet and a view of the warehouses. The water could still be heard lapping against the edge, but it was the only indication that something lay beyond. That, and there were various-sized holes in the wall for fishing.

“The barricade can be opened from the inside.” Merrill told him later when she’d taken a break from the infirmary. “Aveline keeps us supplied when she can. And my clan shares what they can from their hunts. The inlet provides a little. We’re doing well enough. We’re hoping both walls can come down soon.”

“The rest of the city won’t resent you for isolating yourself?” he asked.

Merrill shrugged. “The city has always isolated the elves. And we're not the only area in Kirkwall with a barricade. Hightown tried first, though that didn't go over so well when most of the nobles fled once the fighting started. And it’s not like whoever's left can be mad at us for escaping danger – we haven’t. The walls don’t hold people back so much as deter those who are looking for easier prey. We’ve seen our share of battles… and deaths.” She pauses at the tree in the center of the courtyard to tend a plant at its base.

“So, how do I get out?” he asked.

“Oh, you can’t leave.” She said, straightening. “Not until Isabella gets here, at least.”

He stared at her. “Why is Isabella coming here?”

She started. “Oh! Well…” She looked everywhere but directly at him.

“Merrill,” he said when she didn’t speak.

“Well,” she said again, turning to him but keeping her gaze at the ground. “It was all Hawke’s idea, really.”

All the breath went out of him, like he’d been punched in the stomach. “What was?” he managed.

“When you and Hawke split up,” Merrill explained, looking at him now that she sensed his change in mood. “She wrote to all of us, asking that we’d look out for you if anything happened to her.”

Hawke had promised, _promised_ him that nothing would happen. She had sworn to do everything in her power to keep herself alive so they could be together again. And not only had she volunteered to stay behind in the Fade, but she’d made arrangements behind his back should something happen.

His anger rose. The lyrium in his skin burned and glowed. People around them started to stare.

“Fenris-“ Merrill tried.

“She promised, Merrill.” He said through gritted teeth. “She _promised_.” The lyrium was burning hotter, the light increasing.

Merrill drew her dagger from her belt, slowly so he saw it. “I need you to calm down, Fenris.” She said, bringing the blade to her hand. “If you don’t, I’ll have to bind you with blood magic.”

He seethed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.” She assured him, her voice calm and steady. “I’ve had to do it before.” She glanced at the spectators around them. “And they thanked me for it.”

He took a moment to follow her gaze. He was making a scene.

But he was still angry.

With a cry, he turned from Merrill and walked toward the edge of courtyard, elves scattering out of his way. With another cry, the lyrium in his skin fully ignited. He felt it burn through him. Then he let it go, the white glow diminishing as he punched the plaster wall in front of him over and over again.

He didn’t let the lyrium aid his progress. He wanted to feel it as his fists hit the wall, wanted something to push back against the betrayal he felt. The wall was strong enough to take his blows as though he wasn't even trying. And it felt good, good to have something stand against him, to tell him he wasn't as strong as he thought or to wanted to be. Eventually, the pain broke through his anger, and he stepped away from the wall with his knuckles raw and bleeding.

He didn’t move, just stood there with his hands shaking while he breathed in and out, his anger flowing away with each breath, replaced by the stinging in his hands.

Merrill came to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. Then she led him away, through the crowd that stared at him like he was a mad man, and back to the infirmary. She directed him through the crowded cots to her room where she steered him into chair. Then she searched through her cabinet and came back with a jar of salve.

He pulled his hands away from her. “Don’t.” He said. “You need that, and I did this to myself.”

She grasped his wrist, pulling his hand toward her. “You’re in need of as much help as anyone else here, Fenris. Whether you realize it or not.”

He let her work as she spread the salve on his bleeding knuckles. It was cool to the touch and soothed the pain. Then she wrapped his hands and fingers in bandages as expertly as if she’d done it a thousand times.

He turned his hands over once she was done, admiring her work. “You’re better at this than Anders.”

As soon as he said the words, he wished he hadn’t. No one needed reminding of the massacre at the Chantry.

Merrill gave him a soft smile. “Anders didn’t like you.” She said as she carried the jar of salve back to the cabinet.

“True.” He admitted. That would probably account for why he hadn’t always bandaged him up properly. Though, Fenris had done his fair share of showing his dislike toward Anders with a knock of his sword here or there.

“Anyway,” she said, as she rearranged the cabinet’s contents. “I couldn’t do half the stuff he did. Just herbs and bandages.”

He was grateful for that... and ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You were angry,” she said, as though it were nothing. “You needed to let it out. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt anyone in the process.”

He might have, too – just gone off on a rampage and splintered that damned tree everywhere – if she hadn’t reminded him of the people around. He needed to get a better grip on himself.

“What happens?” he asked, wanting to focus his mind on something other than Hawke. “When Isabella gets here?”

Merrill looked at him, her eyes wide.

“I won’t get angry.” He promised.

She turned back to the cabinet and closed the doors. Without turning around to look at him, she said, “She’s taking you to Skyhold.”

That did irk him, and he had to hold himself back before speaking. “And why would I want to go there?”

Merrill sighed and turned.

“Because it was the last place Hawke went,” she said. “Because it was important to her. Important enough that she…”

 _That she died for the cause_ , Fenris finished in his head. More important than staying alive for him.

He was being selfish, he knew. Hawke would have given herself to save whoever necessarily. She wouldn’t have done something so selfish as to let others die so she could live, not if the cause was just. She must have had a good reason for doing what she did. But it didn’t make him hurt any less, and it didn't make him feel any less betrayed.

“It was Varric’s idea.” Merrill continued, as though that mattered. “You don’t have to go. Isabella will take you anywhere. But we thought it might help give you a purpose to… pick up where Hawke left off.”

He didn’t like the idea, that was his first reaction. How could sending him to the headquarters of the organization in which Hawke lost her life help him at all? He had no desire to go there and have her death surrounding him, as if it wasn’t already hanging over him. That his friends would choose this for him…

He’d already taken out his anger on his own body. He wasn’t too keen on doing it again so soon. He needed to stop being so reckless. He hadn't been so directionless since... 

Since before Hawke.

He let out a long breath, then stood from the chair. “I’m taking a walk.”

“Don’t punch anymore walls.” She said as he brushed passed her.

He waved his bandaged fingers at her. “And ruin your handiwork?”

He left the infirmary and stood against the barricade that hid the inlet from view. He had a sudden desire to see the sea, to not feel so suffocated by the walls around him. There was large whole at the bottom of the wall. He was able to shift a few pieces and slide through on his stomach.

He hugged the barricade upon making it to the other side. having barely enough ground to stand on. But the smell of the saltwater cleared his senses, and the soft breeze that managed to come through cooled his head. He looked down at the water as he thought.

Was it so terrible a decision to join the Inquisition? Merrill said he could go anywhere, but he hadn’t exactly made the best decisions for himself recently.

It was good of his friends to look out for him, however ungrateful he might feel.

But was he ready for this? To confront Hawk’es death so directly? He’d been doing his best to avoid it so far. And to join the Inquisition…

He leaned his head back against the wall behind him and sighed.

He might as well wait for Isabella. It wasn’t like he had any better ideas.


	3. Chapter 3

It took a week for Isabella to arrive, at which point Fenris had been driven nearly out of his mind with boredom. He’d tried helping around the alienage, but most of the elves were keen on keeping their distance from him, despite Merrill's insistence he was harmless. No one wanted to be around the strange elf who glowed white and had a ferocity for punching walls.

Isabella was a welcomed sight as she came toward him wearing a hat three times the size of her head. It was black with a blue feather and decorative blue and gold trim. It looked ridiculous, yet it suited her nicely.

“Fenris!” she cooed, her arms opened wide. Then she caught sight of his hands and seized them in hers. “What did you do to yourself?”

His hands weren’t nearly as damaged as they had been, thanks to Merrill’s salve. The bandages were off, but they still showed signs of abuse in the form of bruising and calluses. “I… got angry.” He told her.

“Of course, you did.” She dropped his hands like they no longer interested her. Then she saw Merrill. “C’mere, Kitten!”

Merrill ran to her, and Fenris stood off to the side to give the two women a chance to catch up. The alienage elves stared at Isabella while keeping their distance. Either they were just cautious of outsiders after their introduction to Fenris, or they’d heard this woman had come to take the broody elf away and they worried she might be as unstable as him.

“You ready for this?” Isabella asked after they had said their goodbyes to Merrill and were out of sight of the alienage. She was being much more cautious traveling the city than he had been upon his arrival – checking around each corner and keeping to the shadows. He wondered how close he’d come to getting himself killed with his mindless walk to Hawke’s mansion. “All this Inquisition, saving-the-world stuff?”

He shrugged, then realized she had her back to him and couldn’t see. “I don’t know.” He answered honestly.

“Well,” she said, waving to him to let him know the coast was clear before dashing around the corner. “Let me know if you come up with any better ideas, and I’ll turn the ship around.”

They made it to the docks without incident. Fenris identified Isabella’s ship immediately as it was the only one in the bay with an undamaged mast or hull. Isabella stopped him, however, before approaching it. She disappeared behind some barrels and came back dragging a chest and carrying a cloak over her arm. She dropped the chest at her feet and flung the cloak over him.

“What are you-?”

“It’s to hide your identity.” She told him as she clasped the fastenings.

“The markings-“ he protested.

“It will only be for a few moments.” She said, pulling the hood over his head. The cloth hung low, hiding his face. “Before we go, you must know I don’t give anyone on my ship passage for free.”

“Isabella,” he said, struggling to shake the hood from his eyes so he could see her. “I don’t have anything-“

“I _know_ that.” She told him, pressing her hands to the sides of his head to stop him from shaking it. He still couldn’t see her face. “But if my men know I’m giving you a free pass, I’ll never get payment from anyone again. Now,” she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Usually I let someone work among the men, swabbing decks and the like, but I have a feeling you'll leave me with a few less crew by the end of the voyage.”

That was a fair assessment, he supposed. Though, he didn’t understand why she couldn’t have explained all this to him on the way here.

“So the only thing I can think of to keep you away from the men and make it look like I’m still requiring payment from you is if you stay in my cabin. Exclusively.”

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. “Isabella-“ He struggled to push the hood back.

But she pulled it over his face and ushered him toward the ship. He had to bow his head to look at his feet to prevent from tripping over himself. “It’s only for appearances,” she continued, speaking softly in his ear. “It’s not like I’m requiring you to do anything.”

“Where?” he asked once the thought occurred to him. “Will I be sleeping?”

Isabella was silent for a moment, confirming his suspicions that she had planned on them sharing a bed. “I’ll find a mat for you to sleep on the floor or something,” she said at last. And then she was shoving him up the gangplank to the ship’s deck.

The shouts and grunts of Isabella’s men as they greeted her were disorienting. He really couldn’t see a damned thing but his own two feet. Isabella, however, kept a firm grip on his arm, leading him across the deck. He could hear the sound of wood scraping against wood as she dragged the chest behind him.

“Look lively, men!” Isabella shouted to them. “We’re setting sail!”

More grunts and shouts of acknowledgement. Then the sound of feet running around. Then the hinges of a latch in a door, and Isabella was shoving him into her cabin. He waited for the sound of the door closing behind him before pulling the hood off.

Isabella’s cabin was of decent size, having room for a large rectangular table that easily could have sat eight or ten people, but which Isabeela seemed to be using as a desk. Upon it sat several maps and a few books with room to spare, but there was only one chair. Her bed – a cozy size if two people were to sleep in it – sat on one side of the room while a wide crossed window was set in the wall on the other. There was a bookcase in the back and a wardrobe. The room seemed almost sparse with all the extra space in it - enough that he could stretch out on the floor nearly anywhere he wanted.

It was a far cry from the room she’d held at the Hanged Man.

“There, see?” said Isabella, drawing him from his thoughts as she dragged the chest to the table. “No harm done.” She bent over to open the chest, giving him a clear view of her behind.

Fenris rolled his eyes and, upon surveying the room and realizing there was no other furniture, resigned himself to sitting on the bed. At which point, he unclasped the cloak and threw it from him.

“’Books for Fenris.’” Said Isabella, straightening from the chest with a note in one hand and a clutch of books in the other. She sat the books on the table and then continued to rummage. She pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. “’Confiscated’ booze. Aveline, you naughty girl.”

She sat the bottle on the desk as well. Fenris eyed it for a moment, then drew his gaze away.

The next item was a leather bag that jingled with the sound of coin.

“Is Aveline paying you to transport me?” Fenris asked.

Isabella scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is a care package.” She strode to the cabin door and opened it enough to throw the bag to one of her men. Then she shouted at him to distribute it and closed the door again.

Whatever else the chest contained, Isabella didn’t go through it right away. She strode to the table and popped the cork from the bottle. “Want some?” she asked after pouring herself a glass from a cabinet beside the door Fenris hadn't noticed at first.

Fenris shook his head. He thought it might be best if he stayed away from alcohol for a while.

“You won’t drink,” said Isabella, taking a sip from the glass. “You won’t have sex. It’s a two week voyage to Ferelden. What do you plan to do the whole time?”

He didn’t know if she actually wanted to sleep with him or if she was just making crude jokes. Though, knowing Isabella, it was probably both.

“Pass me a book?” he said.

She gave a sigh of disgust and tossed the top one off the stack at him. It landed beside him on the bed. He picked it up, and by its title he saw it contained a historical account of the Exalted Plains.

“Why is it?” asked Isabella as she shuffled through the rest of the books. “People insist on giving elves elven literature to read?” She tossed the rest of them on the bed next to him.

“Because… I like reading it?” he tried, wondering why it mattered to her.

She sat in the chair at her desk and took another drink from her glass. “My books are much more interesting.”

“I’m sure they are.” He said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice.

She propped her feet on her desk, crossing them at the ankles. “Well, anytime you want to give them a read, feel free.”

He thought that was very unlikely. Though by the end of the first week of the voyage, he had read through all the books Aveline had set aside for him. He found himself debating if he should re-read them or if it might be worth trying to find something in Isabella’s collection that wasn’t erotic. Judging by the titles he browsed, he thought a few might have purely nautical content… though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make sense of it.

Beyond reading, he had very little to occupy himself with. He wasn’t able to leave the cabin, and Isabella spent most of the day among her crew. She returned to the cabin during meals and in the evening, during which the two of them might talk. Though, they exhausted most topics other than the weather after the first few days.

Sometimes, he’d watch the sea passing by out the window. But even that got boring after a while, and it left him too alone with his thoughts. He needed something to do, something to keep his mind off Hawke. Isabella didn’t help as when their conversation ran dry, she often tried bringing up events from the past - events that almost always included Hawke. And she didn’t appreciate it when he asked her to change the subject.

He supposed he was proving to be more of a distraction for her than she was for him. He noticed her watching him while they sat in her cabin. It didn’t matter what he was doing – reading, pacing, standing by the window – she found something about him to occupy her attention.

She’d often watched him when they’d traveled with Hawke. He’d even returned some of that attention … until Hawke. Everything had changed with Hawke. Since then, he’d learned to ignore Isabella’s glances, accepting it as a part of who she was. But putting up with her in a cabin that was feeling smaller with each passing day was starting to grate on his nerves.

“You’re so tense, Fenris.” She commented one evening. She was watching him from the chair at her table while he read on her bed. Though it was where she slept during the night, the lack of other furniture in the room had made it Fenris’ reading spot during the day. He told her once that if she had other furniture, he could sit somewhere else, though he imagined the bed being the only other sitting area was the point. “You need to relax.”

“You have any suggestions?” he said before he could stop himself. Of course, he knew what she was going to say. He was used to feigning innocence as a joke, though he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for her games today.

But instead of her usual humor, she crossed her arms and looked stern. “I _have_ offered.”

He stared at her. Never had he imagined she’d actually been serious... not completely. After the initial shock wore off, the anger set in. “Hawke was your _friend_."

Isabella raised her hands in defense. “And I’m offering _as_ a friend.”

Fenris shook his head, disgusted with her, and turned back to his book.

“Fenris,” she said, walking around to the end of the bed so they were face to face. “Hawke wouldn’t want you to be miserable for the rest of your life. She’d want you to find some happiness, even for a moment, even with someone else. She wouldn’t begrudge you for that.”

He raised the book higher, blocking his face.

She threw up her hands. “All right,” she conceded. “Fine. Just… think about it.” She let out an aggravated breath and strode for the cabin door. “I’ll never understand why people have to make sex so complicated,” she muttered before opening the door and shutting it behind her.

Fenris sighed and dropped the book to his lap. That Isabella would even seriously think he might…

He had to remind himself that her mind worked differently than most people he knew, and she probably was just trying to help… mostly.

Not that he needed or wanted that kind of attention. And as to what Hawke would have thought about it… he didn’t even want to consider. Considering anything about Hawke was just too much. 

No, he wouldn't go there. There were less potentially damaging ways to relieve stress than Isabella's methods.

Not that he had many available to him cooped up in this room.

  

* * *

 

He did eventually cave in to attempting to read one of the nautical books. He felt like he was back at square one, having trouble discerning the simplest words. But, he imagined that was how he was supposed to feel… and at least the book had drawings to reference.

“That has _got_ to be boring you,” said Isabella from the other side of the room where she leaned against the wall. She was looking out through the windows. Their conversation from the day before had not been brought back up again.

“It’s… a challenge,” he admitted.

She turned to look at him, but he ignored her. Eventually, she sighed and strode toward him. She came up behind him, pulling him toward the head of the bed where she stood.

“What are you-?”

“Relax, Fenris.” She said. “I’m not seducing you… not unless you want me to.” Her hands began to massage his shoulders. “Just trying to release some of this tension you’ve built up.”

He didn’t like this idea, and he wasn’t sure he trusted her. He cried out when she kneaded her knuckles into his back.

“Relax,” she said, pulling him back toward her as he tried to squirm away. “Let me help.”

His muscles protested at every prod of her fingers, every kneed of her knuckles. His lyrium markings burned. He wasn’t sure this counted as helping.

“ _Relax_ ,” she said again, returning to his shoulders. “You’re so tense.”

At length, his muscles began to give way to her prodding, and the intensity of his markings died down. He felt the tension he hadn’t even realized lay across his shoulders release.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she said, moving down his back again.

It was better. Much. Though, he didn’t want to tell her that. As she worked his muscles, he began to feel more peaceful that he had since… since he and Hawke had parted paths. It was nice to have someone care about him again, to have someone touch him in ways that left the lyrium markings tingling pleasantly, not hurting.

He leaned back into Isabella’s hands, letting her do the work she'd set herself to.

“There you go,” she said.

It did feel good. She was better at this than he'd thought she'd be. And the more he relaxed against her, the more tension he felt leaving him.

He closed his eyes, letting Isabella’s movements carry him away to another time... one with him and Hawke.

It had been in Danarius’ mansion on the bed he’d claimed for himself. He’d never been given a massage before and hadn’t known what to expect. But the movements of Hawke’s hands as they traveled up and down his back, sending his lyrium markings tingling, had been unlike anything he’d felt before.

“How is it?” she had whispered in his ear.

“Good,” he’d admitted while resisting the urge to seize the bed covers underneath him. Was it supposed to be arousing? Did she know what she was doing to him?

“Good.” She said, going back to her work. Except this time, as her hands moved lower, she dropped soft kisses on his skin, starting from the small of his back and traveling up to his shoulders.

He turned his head to catch her lips and the massage ended, though her hands continued to travel his body, igniting the lyrium in his skin. He laid her down on the bed, trailing kisses from her collarbone and down...

Fenris gasped as memories from that night and countless others came to him – loving, beautiful memories that he’d done everything to push from his mind because he knew how much they’d hurt if he let them in.

The second breath he took was a sob, and he pressed a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stem the flood of emotions he could feel rolling inside him. He hadn’t cried for Hawke, not since receiving Varric’s letter, and he could no longer hold it all back. His body shook, and he brought his face to his hands as his eyes burned. A whimper escaped him.

Isabella drew back, her hands leaving him. “Fenris…”

He turned away from her, curling into a ball on the bed as unreleased sobs shook him, racking his chest. His lungs constricted as he struggled to breathe from the weight of it all. He took large strangled gasps, and when his breath returned, his grief came pouring out all at once. He clutched the blankets beneath him, grasping at something, anything that might carry him through the gaping, bleeding hole he felt in his chest.

Isabella placed a hand on his arm, perhaps to comfort him. And then, perhaps realizing there was nothing she could do, she stepped away. “I’ll sleep on the floor this time,” she said.

He pressed his face into one of her pillows, trying to hide the sound of his sobs from her as much as anyone else who might be passing by the cabin.


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris took a deep breath of fresh air when they docked at the Ferelden port – or as deep of one as he could with Isabella's blasted cloak covering his face. She ushered him over the deck of her ship, down the gangplank, and through the crowd of jostling bodies and voices. At last, she pulled the hood from his face.

"It's a two week journey to Skyhold," she told him, unclasping the cloak. "Or longer, depending on the weather and how fast you move." She paused, her hands poised to fling the cloak from his shoulders. Then she moved to clasp it up again. Her gaze softened. "It's cold. You should keep warm. Find a caravan to travel with. You're not the only one headed that way."

"Isabella-" he started, moved by her concern.

"Just don't freeze to death," she said, looking him in the eyes. "And don't get yourself killed saving the world. I don't want another one of Varric's letters."

He brought a hand to her face, wishing he could soothe her fears. She grasped his hand in hers and squeezed.

"I hate goodbyes." She said, shifting her gaze from him. She hesitated, then kissed him fully on the mouth and walked away.

Fenris stared after her in shock as she disappeared among the crowd.

That woman had a bigger heart than she was willing to admit.

Shaking his head, he set himself to the task before him. Walking to the other side of the city, he found the road that led away and up into the mountains.

He didn't see the point in taking stock in the city. He didn't have any money with him, and he didn't feel like waiting around for a caravan to get underway. He'd been on his own plenty of times. He'd learned long ago how to fend for himself.

He started toward Skyhold alone and was content to remain that way until the third day when he caught up with a caravan that was being harassed by bandits. He took care of the nuisance quickly, and the group welcomed him among them.

He was weighing his options – traveling by caravan meant company he didn't necessarily want or need. It also meant slower going and stopping during the night. He was certain he'd do much better on his own.

And then a young girl was suddenly pulling on his sleeve.

He looked down at her. She had long brown hair, large brown eyes, and she was clutching a straw doll to her chest.

"They're pretty," she said.

"What are?" he asked her.

She pointed at his arm, and it took him a moment to realize she was indicating his markings.

"Ariana!" called a woman's voice.

"I have to go now," said the girl, and she ran to the wagon two lengths behind him where her mother was waiting.

Fenris didn't know why, but he paused in his steps, letting the caravan carry forward until the little girl's wagon caught up with him.

"Was she bothering you?" asked the girl's mother. She had a slender face and her daughter's hair.

"No," Fenris told her as he fell in step beside her.

"Thank you," said the woman. "For earlier."

"Don't mention it," he said, barely listening as he watched the girl with boundless energy run in circles around the wagon.

He and Hawke had never talked about having children.

He'd thought about it a number of times and knew Hawke had as well from looks they'd exchanged when passing children in Kirkwall. But neither of them had brought the conversation up. Things were simply too chaotic, and he and Hawke had always seemed to be in the thick of it. How could they possibly raise a child when the world was tearing itself apart around them? It hadn't seemed logical.

And now... it would never happen.

That little girl who thought his markings were pretty...

He only drew his gaze from her when tears threatened to fill his eyes.

 

* * *

  

He didn't realize he'd decided to stay until he found himself sitting around a fire with the other travelers and eating a bowl of tasteless porridge. Ariana's family sat a few paces from him, but he kept his eyes on his food and the fire.

He had to remind himself not to watch her so intently or surely her family would think him suspicious. They might even have such thoughts already with his strange markings and how he'd hung near their wagon all evening.

"It's getting colder." He overheard Ariana's mother saying to her husband. The two of them looked to the young girl playing with her doll at their feet.

Fenris turned his head to view the mountains behind him. The caravan would be climbing into them within the next day or two. If the family was worried about the cold...

He removed the cloak Isabella had given him and walked over to the couple. "Here." He said, holding it out to them.

The mother looked taken aback. "We couldn't possibly-"

"I don't need it." He told them. If he concentrated enough he could heat the lyrium in his skin to keep him warm. And he despised Isabella's cloak anyway.

"But that's twice her size," said the mother, looking it over. "I could make a nice thick cloak for her out of it – we must trade you for something."

His protests went unnoticed as the woman turned to her husband and insisted he find something suitable. The man returned a few minutes later with a thick leather vest that was a suitable size for keeping an adult warm but without enough material to make a proper cloak for Ariana.

Fenris accepted it quickly, knowing his protests would go unheeded and embarrassed for putting the family in such a position as to feel indebted to him.

After dinner, the travelers returned to their wagons to sleep. Fenris was debating about finding a suitable place outside when Ariana's father approached him again.

"Are you sleeping out here?" he asked.

"I was considering it." He admitted.

The man let out a laugh. "What will you do when we reach the snow?"

Fenris didn't answer. He didn't want to explain about his markings.

The man waved at Fenris to follow him, then walked him over to their wagon. It was full of boxes, barrels, chairs, and other supplies and possessions. But everything had been arranged to lie as flat as possible with blankets and articles of clothing thrown over it all to provide sitting or sleeping space.

"I will be a tight fit." Ariana's father said. "But I imagine that will be of benefit when we reach the mountains."

"I couldn't..." Fenris looked toward the fire pit. It really wouldn't be too much trouble.

"Don't be silly, lad," said the man beside him, following his gaze. "Get in."

 

* * *

 

_Hawke sat on a mist covered hill overlooking the waste land of the Fade below her. There were no demons... for now._

_Her usually wavy blonde hair hung limp around her face. Her eyes were red and had dark shadows around them. How long had she been fighting? How much longer would it continue? She couldn't keep on like this for forever._

_She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Just for a moment... she could let her guard down for a moment._

_A high pitch shriek sounded behind her, and she turned her head._

Fenris awoke with the demon's cry. After a moment, the green image of the Fade dissipated and was replaced by the tan canvas of the wagon above him.

He turned his head, grateful he hadn't woken the family. And then he noticed Ariana's eyes staring at him from between the sleeping forms of her parents.

"Bad dream?" she whispered.

He nodded and studied Ariana's father beside him and her mother on the other end of the wagon. How could they be asleep while Ariana had awoken?

"They don't wake," she whispered, noticing his gaze.

"Oh," he mouthed as though that explained it.

The small child wigged out of her parents' arms and climbed over to him. "When I have bad dreams," she said. "I sleep with Emily." She handed him her doll. "You can have her tonight."

He was not used to this – this kindness, people doing things for him, accepting him without question. It wasn't normal. No one had done that before Hawke.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before accepting the doll and mouthing, "Thank you."

The girl crawled over her father and wiggled back into her place between her parents.

She was right. They really didn't wake.

As soon as Fenris rolled over and closed his eyes, Ariana's doll clutched in his hand, he fell back into the dream.

_Hawke's hair flew about her shoulders as she swung, her sword connecting at the base of the neck of one of the undead creatures. She pulled the blade free and spun in the other direction, her blade connecting with another._

_There seemed no end to the swarm. Hawke kept swinging, determination and adrenaline keeping her on her feet. When her enemies finally lay scattered around her, she fell to her knees. She took a breath, two, then fell to the ground beneath her. Her eyes closed, exhaustion finally taking over._

Fenris awoke for the second time, thankfully without waking Ariana. He'd hate for her to think her doll had failed him.

He reached over Arianna's father and dropped the doll onto the girl's stomach. Then he slid himself out of the wagon, taking care not to make too much noise.

Light was just appearing over the horizon. The caravan would be awaking soon. Breakfast would be placed on the fire, and then they'd continue their journey.

Fenris took a walk, going off the road and into the forest.

He hadn't allowed himself to think of Hawke's final moments, but images from his dreams of the Fade kept coming to him – Hawke with her tired eyes, her hair flying, her gritted teeth, her brow crinkled in determination, her arms swinging...

Fenris crouched to the ground and ran his hands through his hair.

She shouldn't have been alone. Someone, anyone –  _he_ should have been with her. Whatever demons she'd faced, he should have been at her side. He could have defended her.

Tears came to his eyes as the image of Hawke collapsing to the ground flashed through his mind.

It shouldn't have been that way. She should have survived. He should have died in her place. He would have gladly made the switch.

He pressed his mouth into his arm as the sobs came. His other hand lay pressed against the dirt in front of him, keeping him upright.

Maker, why? Why was she the one to die and he the one to carry on?

Hawke was strong. She could have made it through. But him? How was he supposed to handle this? How could he possibly move on without her?

He let himself fall to the dirt when his strength gave out. And when the tears finally ended, he considered remaining where he lay and letting the caravan go on without him.

What was the point, anyway? Hawke wouldn't be at Skyhold. Nothing awaited him there but more pain, more memories, more dreams, and more fighting.

Maybe it would be best just to lie here. He could make an experiment out of it and see how long it took him to waste away. Or maybe hunger or something else would force him to his feet... maybe. He doubted anything would be powerful enough to make him move. He certainly didn't have the motivation to do so now.

"Fenris?"

It was Ariana's voice carrying through the trees as she called for him.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Damn that beautiful, gentle child.

He got to his feet and wiped his face with his hands. Ariana called for him a few more times, but he didn't move. He wanted to make sure enough time had passed to erase the signs of grief from his face.

The girl's cries ended eventually. Presumably, her parents had ushered her to breakfast.

When Fenris did return to the caravan, Ariana's father pushed a bowl of cold porridge into his hands and told him he was lucky to be getting anything at all. Breakfast had ended, and the carvan was moving on.

Fenris ate as he walked, thinking he'd have to try hunting later to find something with which to make a more satisfying meal. He nearly dropped his bowl as Ariana ran up to him and hugged him around the leg.


	5. Chapter 5

"So," said Ariana's father as he rode in the seat of the wagon with the horses' reins in his hands. "What brings you to Skyhold?"

Fenris looked up at him from where he walked on the road. "I have friends there." He said, though in truth it was only Varric. "I'm going to meet up with them."

Ariana's father nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you?" Fenris asked.

"Our farmland was overrun with the mage and Templar war." The man explained. "We've lived as refuges for a while now. When we were finally told it was safe to return home… everything was gone."

"I sorry," said Fenris.

The man shrugged. "Sometimes, life forces you to start over." He turned to look back at his wife and daughter who were walking further behind them.

"And Skyhold…?" Fenris prompted when he didn't continue.

"The world is changing." Said Ariana's father, turning back to the road in front of him. "Did you know the Inquisitor is Dalish?"

"I have heard that." Fenris admitted, though he still found it hard to believe.

"A Dalish as the Herald of Andraste." He said, shaking his head. "Months ago, no one would have accepted it. But now… people need something to believe in. Tell me, Fenris, are you Andrastian?"

Fenris hesitated. Religion was usually a topic he preferred to avoid. He often kept his views to himself – the common Chantry rhetoric not being supportive of elves. Yet this family had been nothing but kind to him. They'd offered him food, clothing, and shelter while asking nothing in return. They'd let him play with their daughter without scrutiny.

"Yes." He admitted.

Fenris found himself in a surprisingly agreeable conversation regarding the Chantry. Ariana's father, whose name was Pryce, believed the Chantry turned too many people away, that it placed too much focus on spreading fear instead of hope. He believed the Chant of Light was for all people of all races.

"So you're taking your family to Skyhold to… serve the Chantry?" Fenris clarified.

Pryce shrugged. "Not entirely sure, to be honest. But if things are changing, why not be at the center of it?"

"What if they don't have work for you?"

"We'll serve the Inquisition in whatever way we can. They're the only ones trying to set the world right, and we want to be a part of that."

Fenris looked back at Ariana and her mother – Eirian, Pryce had said her name was. "It's a long journey for a family."

"But a worthwhile one." Said Pryce. "We worried about what we might be putting Ariana through, but then we realized, what better example could we set?"

Fenris gave a nod. He thought he understood. He remembered the day he'd stood by Hawke to defend the mages. He'd thought it crazy. Even today he still wondered what had been going through his head. But at the same time, he'd known it was the right thing to do. And if he had the chance to do it over, he'd make the same decision.

Pryce and Eirian were following their faith, going wherever they thought the Maker was leading them – a worthy goal in itself. Though one that was rarely without risk, especially with a small child in tow. But for a child to see her parents' faith and where it led them... the effect that could have on her life...

"Do you ever wonder?" Fenris asked. "If it would have better to have rebuilt your farm?"

Pryce was silent for a moment. "If it's the Maker's will, He will make it known."

Fenris nodded again. Both men fell silent as they continued up the road.

It was only a few minutes later when the sky flashed green. Gasps and cries went up around the caravan as everyone looked above them.

Fenris felt his eyes widen. He'd never seen the Breach before… It was so large, so wide, so… ethereal. A swirling hole in the sky. A direct link to the Fade.

It made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

"But," said Pryce from beside him. "The Herald closed it. How could it reopen?"

The caravan came to a standstill. At first, all anyone could do was stare, and then uncertainty began to set in. The travelers converged into a group to discuss their next movements. Fenris stood on the edge, listening.

Should they keep going? Should they turn back? Did they have enough supplies either way? What of demons? Was it safe? What of the Herald? Would she close the Breach again? Or was this new hole in the sky more than just another rift? Did this mean the Herald had fallen? What if Skyhold was no longer safe?

Fenris didn't know what to think. All he knew was there was a hole in the sky, and the closer they moved toward Skyhold, the closer they moved toward it. The potential dangers were… unknowable.

But he did know, what he decided then and there as the green swirl filled his vision, was that he could not turn back. Hawke had died for the Inquisition. Ariana's family were risking their livelihoods to be a part of it. And he... he still didn't know what awaited him at Skyhold. But good or ill, he would meet it. Too many people had risked their lives for him to turn away.

The issue was finally put to a vote, and Fenris raised his hand with the two-thirds majority who wanted to continue forward.

The agreement before the vote had been that the group as a whole would accept whichever decision won out. As a caravan, they were stronger and safer together than if they were to split into different directions. Even so, two wagons redistributed their goods and turned to travel back the way they'd come.

"Maker, help them." Fenris heard Pryce mutter.

He said a silent prayer of his own.

 

 

_Fenris' dream that night was more vivid than any that had come before. The oranges were sharper, the greens brighter. Hawke's face was so clear and the mist in the air felt so real he thought for a moment that he actually was in the Fade, that all he had to do was reach out and he could touch her._

_When the undead swarmed around them, Fenris reached for a sword, ready to fight. He looked to Hawke and she stared at him, her eyes wide. Then she leaped at him, her hands clasping his shoulders. Her mouth opened to tell him something._

"Fenris!"

He awoke to Ariana's father shaking him. Eirian and her daughter sat huddled on the other side of the wagon, staring at him. From the voices outside, it sounded like he had awoken half the caravan.

Fenris pushed Pryce off him, fleeing from the wagon. He ran off into the snowy landscape.

Pryce came after him. "Fenris!" he called. "Fenris, stop!"

Fenris dropped to his knees in the snow. He ran his hands over his face. His body was shaking. So real. The dream had felt so real.

"What's wrong?" Pryce asked as he caught up with him.

Fenris didn't answer. He stared up at the Breach. It had to be the cause. The Fade was where dreams came from, wasn't it? A direct portal to it, and so close… That had to be the reason the dream had felt so different.

He turned his gaze to Pryce who still stood waiting for an answer.

"I had… a friend," he tried to explain. His voice shook and he struggled to keep it under control. "She… went to Skyhold… and she… was lost to one of the rifts."

"Maker." Pryce breathed.

"I… I have dreams." Fenris said, turning his face away. He could feel the tears welling up in his throat. Why was it so hard for him to hold everything in nowadays? "I'm sorry."

His words ended in a sob, and he pressed his hands to his face. This was what Hawke had reduced him to – an unstable, emotional mess. He wondered if he'd ever be able to fully to pull himself together – to be completely free of the dreams and the tearful outbursts.

Was this normal? Was this what most people were like after losing a loved one – to come so completely undone? He had no way of knowing, and no one to ask.

But then he felt Pryce's grip as he placed a hand on his shoulder, reminding him that he wasn't alone.

 

 

There was an herbalist among the caravan, and after the scene Fenris had caused, she agreed to mix something for him without cost. The concoction was black in color and foul smelling and went down worse than what Merrill has given him. But the herbalist promised he would not dream.

 

 

They didn't encounter any demons. In fact, Pryce joked that Fenris' outburst the night before was the most excitement the caravan had seen in days. The travelers were in good spirits at dinner that day, and the Breach was nearly a forgotten fragment in the sky. Though, Fenris kept a wary eye on it. He half expected the undead from his dreams to come pouring out of it any moment.

It was once dinner was over and people were returning to their wagons that the ground shook. They all looked to the sky as a green beam of light shot into the Breach and in the next moment closed it with a pulse that rippled the air.

The horses spooked.

Travelers ran toward their wagons to restrain the animals, but Pryce's horses shot off into the snow.

Fenris ran after them, using his lyrium markings to put on a burst of speed. He caught up with the cart and phased through it. His vision filled with wood and cloth until he came through the other side where the horses were charging. The reins flapped between then, and Fenris grabbed hold.

He didn't think of where he had re-solidified. The horse in front of him kicked out its back legs, and Fenris felt himself fly into the air, his hands holding on to the reins for as long as possible.

He landed on his back in the snow, all the air knocked from his lungs. He started at the scarred sky and for several seconds forgot how to breathe. When he finally did draw a gasping breath, pain burst in his chest.

He coughed, clutching a hand to his ribs. Had he broken something? Or did horses just kick that hard? He turned his head, trying to see around him, but the snow blocked his vision.

He had no desire to try standing. He was perfectly content to lie where he was.

Eventually, he heard the sound of snow crunching, and Pryce came into his field of vision.

"I don't believe it." He said. "You're alive."

He offered his hand, and Fenris took it. Pain shot across his chest as Pryce pulled him into a sitting position.

"Don't you know not to stand behind a horse?" Pryce asked.

"Apparently not." Fenris grimaced. He was surprised his lungs still worked.

"Come on," said Pryce. "We better get you into the cart."

Fenris tried to keep his groans to a minimum as Pryce helped him stand and they walked over to the wagon where the horses waited as calmly as though nothing had happened.

The contents of the wagon had been jostled, and it took Pryce a few minutes to get everything in order. Then, at last, he helped Fenris into the cart. Fenris tried not to note every jolt of pain that shot through him as the cart shook the whole way back to the road.

The family insisted that he rest. The next morning, he was grateful to be riding instead of walking. The occasional jolt along the road that pained him was preferable to what he imagined walking would feel like. It was as if an attempt actually _had_ been made to punch a hole through chest. He might have felt worse without the snow Eirian placed in his chest reduce the bruising.

The second day, he didn't feel much better. Ariana kept him company by riding beside him and telling him stories about adventures involving her and her doll.

On the third and fourth day, he finally felt like he was recovering.

He vowed never to go near a horse again.

 

 

It took over a total of three and a half weeks to reach Skyhold with the slow pace of the caravan and the scare from the Breach. At last they made it to the fortress gates where a line of wagons and carts awaited them. Travelers without carts or livestock were directed to report to another area.

Fenris said goodbye to the family that had been so kind to him. He knelt so as to be level with Ariana as she hugged him. Then she held up her doll for him to see. She had twisted a silver bird feather along one of the straw arms.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Now she has pretty markings like yours."

He laughed, then turned his face from her to hide his grimace because laughing still hurt.

Eirian hugged him as well and handed him a bag of the herbalist's mix of herbs for his dreams.

"I can't-" he started.

"Take it," she insisted.

He could only imagine what she'd had to trade for it, so he removed the vest they'd given him and insisted they take it in exchange.

Pryce shook his hand and wished him luck.

Fenris felt his eyes tearing up as he walked away from the family.  _Damn it, Hawke_. He thought to himself.  _Look what you've done to me._ _I'm a mess._

He was thankfully able to compose himself before approaching the guard at the fortress gate.

There were two people he couldn't wait to see. The second was Varric. The first was a healer.


	6. Chapter 6

"Name," said the guard, quill posed over a roll of parchment.

"Fenris."

The guard wrote. "And your business at Skyhold?"

"I was invited." Fenris told him. "By Varric Tethras."

The guard paused and whispered something to one of his companions. The companion gave a nod and jogged away.

"Please wait in the courtyard," said the guard, turning back to Fenris. "Master Tethras will be made aware of your arrival."

Fenris asked where he could find a healer, and the guard directed him to a row of tents at the end of the courtyard. Fenris approached the woman he found there and explained his encounter with the horse. She asked him to wait in one of the tents while she located a mage.

His opinions against magic had lessened somewhat since he and Hawke had crossed paths, but no matter how much more open minded he'd become he simply couldn't shake his past. He was never comfortable when magic was being performed on him, even healing magic. He had to remind himself to relax as the mage approached him and started weaving some spell.

For a minute, nothing happened. The mage stood in front of Fenris, his eyes closed but his hands glowing.  _Something_ was happening, just not something Fenris could see... which did not calm his nerves. He again reminded himself to relax.

And then something noticeably  _popped_ in his chest.

"Ow!" Fenris cried out, a hand going to his ribs.

"You had a couple cracked bones." The mage told him as he lowered his hands.

"A  _couple_?" asked Fenris irritably as he massaged the area.

"You're good as new now," said the mage, as though he was used to this kind of reception.

Fenris did remember to thank the mage on his way out. And as he stood in the courtyard and took a few deep breaths, he was extremely grateful to be able to do so again without pain.

Then a voice sounded behind him. "I thought I heard your brooding tones."

Varric.

Fenris turned around to face the dwarf and was surprised at the feeling that washed over him. He'd never been so happy to see Varric's face. The dwarf had been Hawke's closest friend, and somehow seeing him standing there was like seeing a piece of Hawke still alive in this world.

Fenris surprised them both by gathering Varric into an embrace.

"Now don't get all sentimental on me, elf." Said Varric, giving him a pat on the back.

 _Too late_. Fenris thought to himself as he let Varric go.

"How was the journey?" Varric asked.

"Interesting." Fenris admitted. He nodded toward the scar in the sky where the Breach once sat. "That gave us quite the show on the road."

Varric laughed. "You should have seen it from here."

Fenris chuckled with him, and then Varric asked. "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough." Fenris said, and he hoped that would be the end of the conversation.

Varric gave a nod as though he knew his friend's thoughts. "Come on," he said with a wave. "I want you to meet the Inquisitor."

Varric led Fenris into the hall of Skyhold. For a few moments, Fenris was struck by the grandeur of it. And then Varric tore his attention away and directed him to a blonde elf. "Inan, this is Fenris. Fenris, meet the Inquisitor."

"Varric's told me a lot about you," said the elf, reaching out to shake his hand.

Fenris took it. "Good things, I hope."

She smiled. "Of course."

There was something strange about her, and then he realized what it was. "I was told the Inquisitor was Dalish."

"Oh!" Her hand went to her face, which was bare of markings. "I am. Or, was, I guess. I... I had the markings removed."

"Removed?" He wasn't aware such a thing was possible.

"It was my choice," she told him. "I... I wanted..."

Her eyes kept glancing away from him. And the way she held her hand against the back of her neck told him he'd made the situation incredibly awkward.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No." She told him, her eyes coming back to him. "It's all right. I should be used to the question by now, it's just-" Her eyes traveled down his arm. "Is that... lyrium?"

"Oh," he said, taking a step back. "Yes, they are."

"Did you... do that to yourself?" she asked.

"No." He told her. "It was forced."

"Oh," she said.

Silence stretched between them until Varric spoke. "Well now that we've gotten the awkward physical attributes out of the way, let's move forward, shall we?"

Fenris and Inan both laughed.

"I'm sorry," she told him as she chuckled.

"It's all right." He told her. "I should be used to the question by now as well."

She sighed. "How long will you be with us, Fenris?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted.

"Well, I suppose the first order of business is making sure you have a room."

Fenris hadn't given it any thought, though now that she brought it up he had a few suggestions. "Is there anywhere out of the way? Somewhere private?"

Varric sighed audibly beside him.

"I'm sure we can find something." Inan said.

 

 

The small room Fenris ended up calling home resided in a yet unrestored part of the castle. A bed, dresser, nightstand, chair and small table had been brought in, but rubble still littered the floor and there were a few drafty holes in the walls.

Fenris thought it was perfect.

"You're not staying  _here_ ," said Varric upon seeing it.

"Why not?" asked Fenris as he plopped down on the bed.

"Why not?" Varric repeated. "Look at the state of it? It's like Daranius' mansion all over again."

"It suited my needs." Fenris told him. "It was solitary."

Varric rolled his eyes. "Yes, it was. And you spent your life in Kirkwall like a ghost." He approached where Fenris lay. "But this is the Inquisition. You can't spend your days ignoring everyone."

Fenris thought he certainly could if he put his mind to it... though, he hadn't yet determined if that was his goal.

"Come on," said Varric, giving a wave of his hand. "I still want you to meet some people."

Fenris sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Varric, it's been a long journey. I'd appreciate a moment to myself." He didn't turn his head to see Varric's expression, but he heard the dwarf sigh.

"All right," he said. "Fine. But you don't get out of meeting people that easily. Come to the tavern tonight for a game of wicked grace. You can talk to or ignore people as you see fit."

Fenris nodded, if only because Varric hadn't moved. Then at last he heard Varric's footsteps walk away and the door closed.

Fenris sighed. So this was the Inquisition.

He pushed himself up from the bed. This castle was one of the last places Hawke had walked. Had she passed through this room? Touched these stone walls?

They were silly questions to ask, and ones that were impossible to know the answer to. But he still wondered if some part of Hawke remained in this place.

He stepped to the window and looked up at the scar in the sky. If he was looking for Hawke, the Fade seemed the only place he'd been able to find her. And none of his dreams had been particularly pleasant.

He removed the pouch of herbs from his pocket and sat it on the nightstand. Varric was right, this wasn't Kirkwall. He was at Skyhold now, and it was time to move forward.

But what was he supposed to do now that he was here? Take up arms? Save the world as Isabella had suggested? Ariana's family had been keen on the notion, and he'd been inclined to think they had the right idea. But...

He felt directionless. The Breach was closed, and the world was getting itself back to normal. What purpose could he possibly find here? How could he help when he had no idea what the word "normal" meant for him anymore?

"What do I do now, Hawke?" he said aloud to the emptiness. "What am I supposed to do?"

The answer came to him as clearly as though she'd spoken the words.

_Go play wicked grace._

 

 

Varric introduced Fenris to the people around them as they sat at the table – Cassandra, Cullen, Josphene, Blackwall, Iron Bull, and Cole. The Inquisitor joined them as well.

Varric shuffled the cards, and then dealt to everyone – including an empty seat across from Fenris.

"Sorry, I'm late," said a dark haired man as he approached the table. "Have you started without me?"

"Dorian," said Varric. "Have a seat. We were just-"

Fenris stood from his chair, it's legs squeaking against the floor. The man's accent and style of clothing marked him as Tevinter. The proud way he walked and stood was a clear sign of his origin as high class. And the robes he wore were exemplary of a mage.

"A Magister in the Inquisition?" he demanded from Varric.

"Actually," said Dorian. "I'm an Altus."

"What difference does it make?" Fenris hissed. He knew exactly what an Altus was, and it didn't matter if a Tevinter mage didn't have a seat in the Magisterium. Not so long as he had power and plenty of people beneath him to use it on.

"Fenris-" Varric tried.

"It makes a great deal-" Dorian started.

"How many slaves do you own?" Fenris pressed.

"None personally," Dorian answered.

"And your family?"

Dorian blinked. "More than you'd care to know about, I take it."

Fenris eyes narrowed. "What is your family name?"

Dorian hesitated before answering. "Pavus."

Fenris knew that name. It didn't matter if this mage wasn't personally a member of the Magisterium. His family was.

Fenris spat on the floor at his feet and threw his hand of cards down on the table. "I'm out."

"Fenris!" Varric called after him as he walked away.

But Fenris ignored him, leaving the tavern and heading out into the courtyard. He paced, clenching and unclenching his fists. He tried not to blame Varric. Perhaps the dwarf just hadn't thought about how he might react to the mage's origins. But he  _should_  have thought about it. How could he not have?

An Altus in the Inquisition! It was just as bad as having a Magister. How is it no one had objected?

"Fenris, was it?" came the mage's voice behind him.

Fenris took a breath, resisting the urge to spin around. Instead he turned slowly to face the man – Dorian, was it? His fists remained clenched at his sides. "What do you want?"

Dorian raised his hands in front of him, palms outward. "Just to talk."

Fenris didn't want to talk. He had no interest in it whatsoever. But he took a breath, then a second. If the mage wanted to talk, he'd let him, if only in interest of remaining civil. "So talk," he said.

Dorian cleared his throat. "I left my homeland and joined the Inquisition because I believed it was the right thing to do – what many of my countrymen believed was wrong. I don't agree with their lust for power. And blood magic shouldn't-"

"What about slavery?" Fenris interrupted.

Dorian faltered.

That was all Fenris needed to know whatever words the man had to say on the matter, he wouldn't like. He laughed bitterly. "You think blood magic and power corrupt, yet you don't give a second thought to having someone else subjected to your will."

"I don't believe slaves should be abused." Dorian told him. "But through slavery, a man can escape poverty. He can gain status and raise a family."

"And yet a slave's status is relative only to that his master's, is it not?" Fenris retorted, taking a step toward him. "A slave is nothing, nothing at all without his master's will. He eats, lives, breathes - even  _kills_  - according to his master's wishes. He has no will of his own."

"That's not-" Dorian started.

" _Ask_  one of them." Fenris said, taking a step toward him again so they were only paces apart. "Give them a choice between saying yes or no, and you'll see they won't know what to do with it. They're too used to their will belonging to someone else. Most have never known any other way."

Dorian had nothing to say to say in response. Fenris stepped forward again, closing the gap between them. "You think Tevinter needs to change?" He asked. "You want to see an end to the blood magic and the corruption? Well, it's not going to happen so long as every magister and mage in power has a legion of slaves at their beck and call. So long as they have willing participants, so long as there's no one to say no against their little experiments, the sacrifices will continue." Fenris shoved his arm under Dorian's face. " _This_ will continue."

Dorian stared at the markings presented to him. "Is that-" He grasped Fenris' arm and the markings alighted. "Lyrium?"

Fenris pulled his arm from Dorian's hand. "Yes, it's lyrium." He hissed, turning away and holding his arm to himself.

"Do they hurt?"

Fenris chuckled, shaking his head at the Tevinter mage.

The two men stood in silence. Enough time passed that Fenris turned to see if Dorian was still there.

The mage jumped, as though Fenris' gaze had stirred him from thought. "Most don't come to Skyhold just to visit." He said. "If you'll be joining the cause, we'll likely be fighting side by side – given your reputation."

Fenris stared at him. Dorian was talking about the time he'd spent with Hawke. He turned his gaze from the mage and sighed. "I've had to travel with those I didn't particularly care for in the past." He said. Then he turned his face back to him. "If we fight together, I'll defend you. If you fall, I'll help you up. If I pass you in the corridor, I wont put out my foot to trip you. But if you're hoping to be friends... I wouldn't hold your breath."

Dorian gave a nod. "Understood."

Fenris turned to walk away, but Dorian called after him.

"As I recall," he said. "Our mutual friend had a game of cards he wanted to play."

Fenris nearly groaned. He had no desire to face the group gathered around the table... but he would do it for Varric's sake. He turned back to Dorian. "As long as I don't have to sit next to you."

Dorian gave another nod, then led the way inside.

The game hadn't started. Fenris' cards still lay on the table where he'd left them.

"Cassandra," said Dorian, walking to the end of the table. "Would you do me the favor of switching seats?"

Cassandra looked up at him, her eyes crinkled in confusion. Then she looked to Fenris and the chair across from him. Her brow smoothed as comprehension came. She gave Dorian a nod. Then she stood from her chair and took her new seat.

Fenris couldn't look at her. He'd caused a scene and made everything awkward. He felt justified in doing so, but... These were Varric's friends, and he had no doubt he'd just made a bad impression.

Still, if they were willing to defend someone who... Perhaps he was judging too soon and too harshly. If Varric indeed called him a friend...

He would make no apologies for his actions. Not now, in any case. Time would tell if he'd been justified or not.

The game commenced. As time went on, the tight air around the group loosened and laughter flowed easily. Even Fenris started having fun, though that might have had something to do with it being Varric's money he was losing and not his own.

That night, after returning to his room, Fenris mixed the herbalist's herbs into a mug of hot water and toasted to the scar in the sky. He didn't know how many of the Inquisitor's companions Hawke had met or if she'd been here long enough to form opinions on any of them. But he was here, and if he was going to stay, if he was to join the cause, then he'd have to make the best of it, just as he'd done in Kirkwall with Hawke.

Kirkwall had turned out for the better. Maybe the Inqusition would too. If he let it.


	7. Chapter 7

Fenris ran the next morning, sticking to walkways above the castle walls where the Inquisition guards stood watch. There were few people up there to notice him, and they made little comment, though some nodded in greeting.

He was free of the dreams that had haunted him, but he still found himself with pent-up tension – perhaps some of the stress Isabella had mentioned. Running helped. He could take his anger and frustration and put it to use.

When he finished his run, he stopped by the barracks where the Inquisition soldiers trained and borrowed their water to splash on his face and bare chest. It had been a while since he'd felt so refreshed. He'd have to make running part of his daily routine.

"Fenris, right?" came a gruff voice behind him.

Fenris turned to find the Qunari he'd played cards with the night before. "Iron Bull?" he asked, wondering if he'd heard the name right.

The Qunari gave a nod. "That's right." He stepped to the barrel of water Fenris had been using and dunked his face in it, his horns preventing him from submerging his whole head. He came up shaking his face, spraying water as he did so. "Ah! Wakes you right up." He wiped his face with his arm, then clasped Fenris on the shoulder. "How about a duel?"

"What?" said Fenris.

"You're joining the Inquisition, right?" Iron Bull said. "Let's see what you've got."

"Doesn't Cullen do that?" Fenris asked. He'd come to the conclusion he probably would have to join the Inquisition, after all. There didn't seem to be a point in his coming here, otherwise. But it seemed a little strange for the captain of the Inquisition's mercenary group to be evaluating soldiers.

"Sure," said Iron Bull. "Cullen evaluates the men, but he lets me take point from time to time – he likes my ideas. And you're no raw recruit. You should have a real challenge."

Fenris considered the Iron Bull's proposal. It had been a while since he'd faced someone with skills to match his own. It might do him some good to test his abilities.

He stepped to the line of weapons against the wall and drew a great sword, swinging it to test its balance.

"Yes!" cried Iron Bull as he watched Fenris. "Another two handed fighter." He stepped to the wall and grabbed a great axe.

Fenris smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

They stepped away from the men and found a space wide enough to accommodate them.

"Ready?" asked Iron Bull as he took his stance, spreading his feet and raising the axe.

Fenris raised the sword and nodded.

"Begin!"

Iron Bull ran at him and swung the axe. Fenris blocked the blow and stepped to the side.

"Good!" said the Bull, turning and coming at him again.

Fenris blocked again. The Bull bore the axe down upon his sword. Fenris spun, slashing the sword across the staff of the axe as he broke free of the grip.

"Step it up!" cried the Bull, coming at him with renewed vigor.

Fenris stayed on the defense, learning the Bull's swings, testing the weight he put into them. At length, he realized the qunari left himself open on his left side.

Fenris swung, and Iron Bull jumped back from him, narrowly missing the blow. "Oh-ho!"

They switched tactics, Fenris on the offensive now while Bull defended.

"You're holding back!" the Qunari told him as he blocked Fenris' sword with his axe.

"So are you." Fenris grunted, pulling the sword free. "Though, I doubt we want to actually injure each other."

Iron Bull nodded, his stance lax. Then he gave a swing Fenris nearly didn't see. He used the lyrium his skin to speed out of the way.

"Ah-ha!" cried Iron Bull in triumph. He came at him, swinging madly.

Fenris ran circles around him, aided by the lyrium.

It felt good, good to let go, to fight against someone who could match him. He hadn't done that since… well, since Hawke. There was a freedom in it, to stretch his skill in safe parameters where no one had to get hurt. It was like a dance – one his body knew well and missed.

At last, Iron Bull lowered his axe, and Fenris did the same with his sword. Both men were breathing hard from the exertion.

"Thanks for the fight," said Bull.

Fenris nodded. "And you, as well."

The Bull gestured at his markings. "What else can those do?"

Fenris glanced around the courtyard and found a discarded practice dummy, beaten beyond repair and set aside to be discarded. Fenris phased his hand through it, then ripped it apart.

Iron Bull nodded in silent appreciation. "Bet those come in handy."

Fenris shrugged. "They have their uses." He was in a good mood, the fight having energized him.

"And a magister did that to you?"

Fenris stared at him.

"I spoke with Dorian," said Bull.

There went his good mood. Fenris sighed and turned to head back toward the barracks. "What about it?" he asked.

"Hey, I get it." Iron Bull said as he followed behind him. "Dorian's a Vint, and no one likes the Vints. But Dorian, he's not like  _all_ Vints. You know?"

Fenris placed the great sword where he'd found it, then turned to face Iron Bull. Was there a point to this conversation?

"Hey," said Bull, raising his hands. "I'm not trying to change your mind. I'm just saying." He put his axe back, then faced Fenris. "Thanks again for the fight. We'll have to do this more often."

"Perhaps," said Fenris. If the unpleasant conversations could be kept at bay.

 

* * *

  

Fenris changed clothes in his room. Then he returned to the courtyard where Inan found him.

"I just spoke with Iron Bull," she told him. "He says you're fit to join the Inquisition."

"Do I have to sign something?" he asked her.

"Officially, Josephine will want something from you." She nodded. "Unofficially, you're in. You'll be with my team, not Cullen's men, though you'll answer to both of us. When we get news of something, we all go out together."

"That would be the group we played cards with last night?" Fenris clarified.

Inan nodded. "That was most of them, yes. Though, Josephine and Cullen usually run things from here."

"And what do we do in the meantime?"

Inan shrugged. "In the meantime, we have a break. Corypheus is defeated, and things have slowed down. But I'm sure they'll pick back up. For now, try to relax and meet some people."

Fenris nodded. He'd rather see some action. It kept his head clear and left little time for unpleasant conversation topics to creep up. But he'd do the best with what he had.

"Since we do have time," Inan continued. "I wanted to hold a memorial service for Hawke."

Fenris started. Speaking of unpleasant conversation topics…

"We didn't have time before," she explained. "And I'd really like to now. I've already spoken with Varric, and he's all for it."

 _Well, if Varric says so_ , Fenris thought to himself. He tore his gaze from Inan. He really didn't want to think about this.

"It can be whatever you want," she said, mistaking his silence for contemplation. "I'll handle all the details."

Fenris' mind reeled. He was not going to get out of this. He knew Varric wouldn't let him. If he fought now, he'd be having an equally unpleasant conversation with Varric later. It would be best just to get it over with. "Can it be…" he started. "Private? Just me and Varric."

She nodded. "I'd like to be there as well," she said. "If that's all right. I didn't know Hawke well, but… she had an impact."

Fenris nodded, if only to speed the end of the conversation.

"Do you have any specifics for-?"

"No." He said quickly. "Just whatever you and Varric decide." And then, to be polite, he added. "Is there anything else?"

She must have noticed his distress because she stepped back from him and said quietly, "No."

"Good," he said. And then he turned and walked away from her as fast as he could.

 

* * *

  

"This is ridiculous." Fenris muttered that evening as he stood in a small courtyard, occupied only by him and Varric.

A pile of branches sat before them, taller than Fenris and arranged in a pyramid shape. Three torches stood before the pyre. Fenris, Inan, and Varric would each say something about Hawke and light their respective torch. Then the three of them together would light the pyre, meant to carry their words and symbolize a release of their grief and Hawke's spirit.

Fenris hadn't expected Varric and Inan to set something up so quickly. On the one hand, he would be glad to have it done and over with. On the other, he wished he had more time to prepare himself… though, he wasn't sure how much it would have helped. It might have made him even more of a nervous wreck.

"This will be good, Fenris." Varric told him. "We could both use this. These sorts of things are supposed to help."

"Not speaking Hawke's name ever again would have helped." Fenris snapped.

"Oh, sure," said Varric. "Just bottle it up and pretend it isn't there. That's the perfect way to handle it."

Fenris was about to say something that probably would have been incredibly rude when Inan approached them. Fenris closed his mouth and steeled himself for the task ahead. He did  _not_  want to do this. The only thing that stopped him from returning to his quarters was that this was for Hawke. It didn't seem right to leave. He  _had_  to do this. He just wasn't happy about it.

Inan stood in front of her torch and asked if they were both ready. The sky was growing dark, and the sun would set soon – the perfect time to light the fire.

Fenris nodded in answer to her question. He tried to ignore the tightness in his stomach.

Inan spoke first. "Hawke," she said to the pyre. "I didn't know you as well as I would have liked. But your counsel and your assistance were invaluable. Through it all, I felt like we could have been great friends. We both knew what it was like to face this world and have the responsibility of protecting it thrust upon us. And I wish… I wish we'd had more time. And I'm sorry we couldn't have all made it out. You saved a lot of lives, mine included, and I thank you for that. The world is missing a great hero."

Inan raised the flint and stone and stuck them together. The spark caught, and her torch lit. She passed the stone and flint to Varric, who took a breath and spoke.

Fenris closed his eyes, trying to drown out Varric's words. He was going to tell some story, some story about Hawke's bravery and wisdom and grace, and he couldn't handle that right now. He didn't need reminding of the amazing woman she'd been – of the woman he'd never see again. He didn't need reminding of another great feat she'd accomplished and his admiration for her.

Varric said something about Hawke's dog, and Fenris let his thoughts carry him away from the rest of the dwarf's words. What had happened to that mabari, anyway? Hawke had to leave him behind when she left Kirkwall. Did Aveline have him now? Yes, that would make the most sense. She'd used him to train the guards. Of course, Hawke would have left him in her care. Did he know Hawke was gone? Could mabari sense these things?

How was everyone in Kirkwall, anyway? They'd all pulled together to help him. He'd burdened them with his grief, but he'd never given theirs a second thought. He was really terrible as this friendship thing.

"I've never known a greater friend." Varric said, breaking into Fenris' thoughts. "Someday, I'll have told all your stories, and I'm not looking forward to that."

Varric paused, and Fenris wondered how well he was holding himself together. Maker, if Varric was having trouble getting through this, how could he ever hope to?

"I'll keep in touch with everyone." Varric said. "Make sure they're okay. I know that's what you'd want. I'll keep an eye on Sunshine for you."

Varric stepped forward and lit his torch. Fenris felt a weight drop into his stomach as Varric handed him the flint and stone.

Maker, give him strength.

Fenris took a deep breath, the air loosening the knot in his stomach a little. "Hawke," he said, staring straight ahead at the pyre. He paused, not knowing what he could possibly say, and then he decided just to let the words flow.

"I've been… lost without you. I don't know what…" He struggled to find the words and took another deep breath. "You made a promise, we both did. And I know you had to break yours, and I'm trying not to be angry at you for that. I wish I could have been there with you. I wish I could have done something…" A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed to get rid of it. "When we met, I was an escaped slave with no past and no future. You gave me a future, Hawke, and now… now I don't know what to do without you in it. Nothing makes any sense. And I… I miss you. I miss you very much."

It wasn't poetic or beautiful. It didn't have the same ring to it as one of Varric's stories. But tears were threatening to form in his eyes, and he couldn't go on any more. It would have to do.

He lit the torch in front of him, then took it into his hand in unison as Varric and Inan grasped their torches. The three of them strode forward and lit the pyre. The fire rose, and smoke billowed from it. Fenris kept his eyes on the flames as they climbed. He dug his nails into the palms of hands, trying desperately to hold on to whatever control he had left.

"Fenris…" Varric tried.

"Varric,  _please_." He said. If the dwarf hugged him or put a hand on him or tried to comfort him in anyway, he would lose it. He knew he would just lose it.

But Inan, who didn't know him well enough to stay away, crossed the expanse between them and put her arms around him. His resolve vanished and the tears fell and then he was sobbing into her shoulder. He tightened his arms around her, trying to muffle the sounds of his cries. She didn't seem to mind. However tightly he held her, she hugged him back just as hard. And that helped a little.

Varric stepped forward and put and arm around each of them. If his shoulders shook, Fenris was too lost in himself to notice.

How long the three of them stood like that, Fenris would never know. But eventually, he gained control of himself and stepped away from the two of them to dry his face on his sleeve. It was then that he noticed the red sash he'd tied around his wrist when he and Hawke had first become involved was still there.

It was something he'd done in an attempt to remind himself that his heart was hers, even if he'd run from her doorstep that night like a coward. The message had taken three years to sink in, but he'd never removed that sash. It was a part of her, something he'd wanted to keep with him.

But there was nothing left of her now, just the memories he held and the friends they'd kept.

Fenris untied the sash from his arm and threw it onto the pyre where it burned until there was nothing left. Then he and Varric and Inan returned to the castle, leaving Hawke's pyre burning – a red flame against the black of the night.


	8. Chapter 8

_He was in the Fade. He recognized it by the oranges and greens and the mist. An expanse of jagged rock stretched before him. And then a voice sounded in the air._

" _Fenris!"_

_He turned, and there was Hawke, running toward him. Her arms came around him in an embrace, and he knew this wasn't real. He was dreaming again. This was not real._

" _You have to get to Skyhold," she told him as she let go._

" _What?" he said. This didn't make sense._

" _You have to get to the Inquisitor. Tell her-"_

Fenris awoke with a gasp. He lifted his head and his eyes fixed on the bag of herbs on his nightstand. He'd forgotten to take them. He'd been so exhausted from the memorial service that he'd climbed into bed without giving the herbs any thought.

He sat up and ran his face over his hands. Hawke had spoken to him. She'd said he needed to get to Skyhold, that he had to tell the Inquisitor something.

It didn't make any sense. It was a dream. What Hawke had to say… it was nonsense.

He rose and stepped to the nightstand where he gathered up the bag of herbs. But then he paused as he glanced out the window at the scar in the sky.

Hawke had tried to tell him something when he'd been on the road to Skyhold. The breach had opened, and that night he'd dreamed she'd grabbed him and her mouth had opened. But he'd woken before she could speak.

Fenris shook his head. It was madness. Hawke was dead. She wasn't trying to tell him anything.

But he sat the herbs back on the table and paced. Dreams were supposed to be a reflection of reality, were they not? What if his mind was trying to tell him something? Something about… about…

Crazy dreams where your dead girlfriend talks to you?

Fenris picked up the herbs again, but his feet wouldn't move.

What if Hawke or his mind or whatever  _was_  trying to tell him something? Should he just shut it out, try to ignore it? What happened when he ran out of herbs? What then? He couldn't ignore it forever. If the dreams didn't settle down…

He went for a run, trying to clear his head. It was still dark, and the guards on the wall were alarmed to see him there, but he ignored them. He needed to figure this out – if it was important, if it mattered, if he was just going crazy.

When he made it back to his room, exhausted and out of breath, he didn't have any answers. But that didn't stop him from taking the bag of herbs and dumping it out the window.

 

 

In the light of day, Fenris thought he might have acted too hastily. The dream had spooked him, that much was clear. But to think that Hawke might have been trying to tell him something from the grave was ridiculous. And to dump out the herbs…

Maybe he could find the herbalist again – if she was still at Skyhold. Maybe she'd agree to make him another bag. But then, he didn't have a way to pay for it or anything to trade with.

He thought perhaps Varric might agree to help, but when he found the dwarf that morning, he realized he didn't want to tell Varric about the dreams. Everything that had happened – getting him to Skyhold and the memorial service – Varric had orchestrated. What would his friend do in an attempt to help him if Fenris explained about dreams that left him rattled and shaken?

He didn't want to know. And he definitely didn't want to give Varric the opportunity.

So when he approached Varric, and the dwarf suggested he needed a proper introduction with the rest of the Inquisitor's team – "Now that you're a part of it." – Fenris didn't protest. He let Varric guide him around the castle.

His encounter with Vivienne was interesting, to say the least. Perhaps it was her lavish living area and her extravagant dress, but something about her set him immediately on edge. But then she commented on his outfit and brooding air and how he could elaborate on it to great effect. Varric was annoyed, having suggested countless times that Fenris needed to be more cheerful. But Fenris was amused. He thought he could come to like this woman.

He met Cassandra again, and if she held anything against him from the incident with Dorian, she didn't show it. Fenris liked her no-nonsense attitude and her dedication to her skill. He thought she might be a worthy sparring partner, as the Iron Bull had been. He made a note to himself to suggest it some time.

His impression of Blackwall upon seeing his living quarters was of a kindred spirit. The man had chosen a place out of the way from everyone else, and he didn't care that it happened to be a barn and was untidy. But then, Fenris knew he himself had hidden because he'd had a past to face and people to hide from. And it made him wonder what Blackwall might be hiding, though he kept his thoughts to himself.

At the tavern, he met Sera. She reminded him of a mix of Isabella, Merrill, and some form of crazy that was uniquely hers. He didn't know if he should feel endeared to her or afraid. Though, he did like what she told him of her organization, Red Jenny, which looked out for the "little people", as she put it. So maybe she wasn't so bad.

What did freak him out a bit, however, was when Varric explained about Cole.

"He's what?" Fenris asked, certain he'd heard wrong.

"A spirit from the Fade who's become human."

Fenris stared.

"It's not like with Anders," said Varric, guessing where Fenris' thoughts were going. "Cole hasn't possessed anyone. He's just… Cole."

"How can a spirit just  _become_  human?" asked Fenris.

Varric shook his head. "I don't know how it works. It just – just meet the kid. He's not that weird, I promise."

Fenris had thought he was a little strange when they'd played cards, but he'd just assumed he was touched in the head. He certainly hadn't imagined Cole was a  _spirit_  that was trying to figure out how to be human. He didn't even know what that meant. As such, he was a little apprehensive when he put out his hand for Cole to shake.

"You're… Fenris," he said as he remembered. "You lost your hawk."

"Uh, yes," said Fenris slowly. He wondered how much of the situation Cole actually understood.

"She reaches out to you." Cole told him. "But you're scared, confused. For you, it's not real."

Fenris stared at him, his eyes widening. Was Cole talking about his dream?

"Uh, Cole," said Varric. "Maybe you sh-"

But Fenris held up a hand to silence him. "What are you saying?" he asked Cole.

"Not real," said Cole, his gaze darting around the room like he was following something they couldn't see. "Can't be real. Just a dream. But you dumped out the herbs."

Fenris took a step forward. Cole was definitely talking about his dream, and seemed to know it in detail. Could Cole know somehow what Hawke had tried to tell him?

"Her eyes wide, pleading." Cole continued. "Tell the Inquisitor. Tell the Inquisitor."

Fenris stood in front of Cole now, staring at him as though his gaze alone could the make the boy's words make sense.

Cole looked up at him, their eyes meeting. "Tell the Inquisitor." He repeated.

And as Cole said the words, they took on new meaning. Hawke had told him to tell the Inquisitor something. But maybe it didn't matter so much what her specific message was, so long as  _something_ was said.

Fenris turned on his heel and fled the tavern, Varric running after him and calling for him to explain. But Fenris kept moving forward. Maybe he was crazy for following the advice of a spirit. But it was one more voice added to his own, telling him that something wasn't right. And at the moment, he was not inclined to ignore it.

"Now wait a second!" Varric called after him as Fenris approached the war room.

Fenris didn't care. He reached the double doors and pushed them open. Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Inan turned to look at him.

"What is the meaning of-?" Cullen started.

But Fenris held up a hand as he'd done with Varric.

"I've been having dreams about Hawke." He told the Inquisitor.

She titled her head to the side. He didn't know if that meant she was intrigued or if she wondered why he'd thought to bother her with such a thing, but he kept going.

"She was trying to tell me something last night," he explained. "Something I needed to tell you. I wouldn't have bothered you with this except that Cole-"

"Cole?" she asked, her head straightening.

"He said-" Fenris struggled. What exactly had Cole said? None of it had made much sense. "He said that Hawke was reaching out, that I needed to tell the Inquisitor…" Was it all madness? Had he just interrupted their meeting for no reason other than to prove he was crazy?

But her eyes widened and she asked him, "When did you start having these dreams?"

He thought for a moment. "After I received Varric's letter."

"And when the Breach opened?" she pressed. "Did they change?"

There was no way he could forget that night when he'd fled Pryce's wagon. The look in Hawke's eyes as she grabbed his shoulders… "Yes," he told her.

"Maker." Inan breathed.

And then she was fleeing the war room and Fenris had to jog to catch up. Cullen shouted after them, but to no avail. Varric caught them in the hall, looking up at them and asking for an explanation, but he too went unanswered.

Fenris followed Inan to a door in the hall where she drew a key from her pocket and opened it. The door opened to an atrium – a round room that was open to the floors above it. On the walls were painted various murals in shades of black, red and cream. He was so captivated by them that it took him a moment or two or notice the books and papers that were scattered about the floor and some of the furniture that had been turned over.

"What happened here?" he asked.

Inan stepped around the table in the middle of the room, gathering the books and papers into her arms. "I had some… aggression," she told him. "That needed to be worked out." She shuffled the books and papers in her arms, then laid them on the table and stared down at them like she expected them to give her answers.

"At Adamant," she said at last. "When we were in the rift, there was a demon that blocked our way. Hawke volunteered to draw it away while we escaped." She ran a hand over her face. "I lagged behind and I – I didn't see Hawke fall, but the demon overtook her. It was coming at us."

She sighed and turned to Fenris. "I started having the dreams soon after. I thought they were just nightmares. But if you're having them too, and if she's speaking to you…"

"She spoke to you, too." Fenris realized. "She said something to you."

"She said, 'I'm here.'" Inan told him. "I thought it was just a figment of the dream but…"

She trailed off. Fenris' heart pounded in his chest. He didn't want to consider what he thought Inan was saying. Because if it was true, if they were both seeing Hawke and they weren't crazy, if it was possible even for a moment to believe…

"What if Hawke beat the demon?" Inan said at last. "What if she's been trying to communicate with us? What if she's been trying to tell us that she's still in there… alive?"

Fenris' knees gave out, and he stumbled back against the wall, leaning on to it for support. When that didn't help, he sunk to the floor.

Hawke was… alive?

"Could it be possible?" he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

"If anyone could fight that demon and live," said Varric, who Fenris hadn't noticed standing by the door. "It would be Hawke."

Fenris looked to Inan. He didn't know what to believe. He didn't want to believe. Because believing Hawke was alive and trapped in the Fade meant he could lose her all over again. "What if we're wrong?" he said. "What if we're just…?"

"I think it's more of a risk to do nothing." Inan said. "Than to try and discover we're wrong."

"Will someone  _please_  tell me what's going on?" asked Cullen who stood in the doorway, having caught up with them at last.

Inan turned to him. "I need horses and supplies gathered immediately for a journey to Adamant. Enough for the Chargers, myself, and three others. I'll explain later."

Cullen hesitated, looking from the Inquisitor to Fenris barely holding himself up on the floor to Varric who was pale beside him. "I'll… take care of it." He said, and then he was gone.

"I need time to think," said Inan, pressing her hands to her face. She returned to the table and began smoothing out the papers and books in front of her. "Maybe Solas left us something we can use. Please," she added when neither Varric or Fenris had moved.

Fenris was still in a daze. He wasn't sure he had the strength to pick himself off the floor.

At last, Varric walked over to him and offered his hands. "Come on, elf."

Fenris made it to his feet and fumbled his way out of the room until finally collapsing into a chair out in the hall.

Varric stood opposite of him. "Tell me about these dreams."

Fenris told him every dream he could remember – from watching Hawke battle demons in the Fade to the night the Breach opened and Hawke had noticed him to the dream he had the night before when she'd spoken to him. It sounded like someone else's voice as he talked. His mind still reeled. Could Hawke be alive in the Fade? And if she was, if she'd been trying to reach him all this time…

Varric threw his hands in the air when Fenris finished. "If you'd told me any of this this morning, I would have said you were crazy. But hell, I think dreams are crazy on principle. But if the Inquisitor…if both of you…" He ran a hand over his face. "Do you think she could be right? Do you think Hawke could actually be…?"

Fenris didn't know. He wasn't certain of anything right now. But if Hawke  _was_ out there, if she was trapped and searching for help… and he was sitting here doing nothing…

"I need to do something, Varric." Fenris said at last. "Anything."

Varric nodded and gestured for Fenris to follow him. "Let's see if Curly needs help."

Fenris stood, and he as he walked from the hall, he felt like someone else was moving his legs, like he was sleepwalking.

Like he was in a dream.


	9. Chapter 9

They rode from Skyhold that evening, making as much progress as possible before the sun set and they stopped to make camp. The Chargers had tents split amongst themselves. Fenris would be sharing sleeping space with Inan, Varric, and Dorian, much to his annoyance. But, as long as Dorian slept as far from him as possible, he would deal with it.

He was still in a daze, his mind not knowing what to think and still in disbelief even after they had embarked on the rescue mission. If Hawke was really out there…

The thought terrified him more than he wanted to admit to himself. So he tried not to think about it and instead focused on the things around him, like the horse's reins in his hands and the beat of the animal's hooves against the ground. And when that wasn't enough, he looked to Inan. She seemed to have a better grasp on things. Maybe he could pull from her strength.

She rode near the front of the group with Iron Bull, the reins in one hand and an open book in the other. Whatever thoughts might be running through her head, Fenris couldn't discern them.

"Who's Solas?" he asked Varric when the thought occurred to him.

Varric sucked in a breath. "He… was an expert on the Fade and elven history." He explained in a tone that was similar to the one he used when he spoke about Anders. Varric moved his horse closer to Fenris and leaned in. "He and the Inquisitor were involved." He said. "He left after Corypheus was defeated without a word to anyone."

"He just left?" asked Fenris. "Just like that?"

"He had the 'decency' to break up with her a few weeks before without any explanation." Varric shook his head like he did whenever some brought Anders into a conversation. "Best not to speak of it." He moved his horse back to its previous position.

Fenris looked to Inan, her attention still on Solas' book, and he realized he wasn't the only one missing someone they loved.

 

 

He didn't join the others at the fire when camp was made. Seeking solitude, he retired early to the tent. After a few minutes, Inan joined him, book in hand.

"Anything interesting in there?" he asked her.

"What?" she said. "Oh." She turned the book over and gave a laugh. "No. There's nothing helpful in here. I was just reading it to… well." She tossed the book to the head of her bedroll. "It's not like it matters now anyway." She lied down, pulled her blanket over her, and turned away from him.

Varric had warned him not to mention anything, but still Fenris said, "You're worried about him."

She turned to look at him.

"Solas." He clarified.

She sighed and rolled onto her back to look at the ceiling. "Varric told you."

"Is that all right?" he asked.

She nodded, then took a deep breath. "You know, what really bothers me? It's not what happened between us. It's not that I never got an explanation. It's not even that he left. I mean, I'd still be hurt and upset and angry." She ran a hand through her short hair. "What worries me is that he didn't say goodbye. I mean, after everything… what could he possibly have left to do that saying goodbye was too much? The only thing that makes sense to me is that he didn't want us to know what he was doing."

She looked at him, and he had no answers to give her. But he remembered that night when Hawke insisted that they separate. She'd shared with him her exact reasoning – that she didn't want things to come to a choice between him or her. And he remembered how hard it was to let her go knowing he wouldn't be able to protect her.

Could Solas have thought similar to Hawke? Could he have felt that whatever he had set out to do, he was better off doing alone? He didn't know Solas, so he had no way to judge. But he could imagine Inan was feeling just as apprehensive as he had been.

"I'm sorry." He told her.

She shook her head. "Don't be." Her gaze returned to the ceiling, and after a moment or two she turned back to him. "How are you doing with all of this?"

He raised his hands as though by moving them they might help him articulate the correct words. But he returned his hands to his sides when nothing came to him.

Inan laughed. "That's exactly how I felt when all this Herald stuff started. Don't worry. It will sink in."

She smiled at him, and he managed to smile back. At least if he felt lost and confused, he was in good company.

"Do you think either of us will dream tonight?" he asked as she settled into the bedroll.

She shrugged. "Maybe. I hope so. It'd be nice to know… to let Hawke know we're coming."

But she'd hesitated. He wasn't the only one worried this whole trip might be crazy.

"Do you think it's only us?" he asked her. "Who have been dreaming?" Was it possible Merrill and Aveline had dreamed of Hawke too?

"I think so," said Inan, nodding her head in thought. "Hawke only became aware of us after the breach opened, which means our thoughts must have carried us to her before that." She raised her hand to show him the mark. "This has carried me into the Fade before without my realizing it."

"But I don't have one of those." He pointed out.

"You have those," she gestured at his markings. "Mages use lyrium to enter the Fade while awake. And you can phase through objects, which  _has_  to have something to do with the Fade."

He'd never considered that before. "I've never actually tried using them to enter the Fade." That sounded like the most horrible idea he could think of… though what exactly happened when he phased? Was it possible some part of him was entering the Fade while the rest of him, his consciousness at least, remained? He wasn't sure he wanted to think about it.

"You don't know how those work anymore than I understand how this does," Inan said, waving her hand.

And she was right. He really didn't know how his markings worked. He just… used them, as he realized Inan must do with her mark.

How strange for two elves in all of Thedas to hold such power… and have it through little choice of their own.

"We've got to be the only two people in Thedas who can cross into the Fade so easily," he mused.

"Solas could." Inan told him. "He'd be able to make more sense of this." She sighed, then reached behind her head for where the book lay and threw it to the other end of the tent.

The corner of Fenris' mouth twitched into a smirk. "Does that help?"

She laughed. "Yes. Throwing things help." She rolled on her side away from him, signaling the end of their conversation. "Goodnight, Fenris."

"Goodnight." He said.

 

 

Neither he nor Inan dreamed that night. They spent the day traveling, then camp was set again and more sleep without any dreams of Hawke. Fenris was beginning to think his anxiety might be the death of him until the next night when he awoke to Inan nearly slapping him in the face from her thrashing.

"She knows." Inan told the tent after Fenris had shaken her awake. "Hawke knows we're coming."

He should have felt relieved. For one, this was the confirmation he'd been waiting for that this wasn't some foolish quest. Hawke was alive and reaching out to them after all. For another, he knew she was safe, at least for the moment.

But he felt only bitterness that Inan had dreamed of Hawke and he hadn't.

The next few days of travel were even more frustrating for him. He was tired of riding, tired of watching the landscape change from mountain to plains to desert, tired of wondering where Hawke was and what she was doing. He just wanted to get to her and bring her home.

His mood was not endearing him to his tent mates. He spent an inordinate amount of time snapping at whoever happened to be riding next to him. When camp was set, he refused to socialize with anyone and instead retreated to bed. And there were times when no one had done anything at all but he still felt the need to last out at Dorian or Varric.

"What has gotten into you?" Inan demanded one afternoon as she pulled her horse back to ride beside his.

Fenris turned his gaze from her, uninterested in talking about it.

"Whatever it is," she said. "Get it together. I know you want to get to Hawke, and we're moving as fast as we can. But we can't deal with this at the moment."

She left his side to return to the front, and he resolved to keep his mouth shut.

But their pace wasn't what was bothering him.

 

 

_The greens and oranges told him instantly where he was._

_"_ _Hawke!" He spun around, searching for her._

_And there she was, standing behind him and leaning on her sword like it was difficult for her to stand. He went to her, and she collapsed into his arms. He sat with her on the ground, holding her._

_"_ _Are you all right?"_

_She nodded. "Just tired. Fighting demons all day will do that to you."_

_He pulled her closer, wishing he could take her away from all this. "Is there anything I can do?"_

_She shook her head. "There's a cave I've been using to sleep. But I'll get there later. Just sit with me for now."_

_He caressed her hair. He didn't want to sit here. He wanted to get up and do something, anything to free her from this place._

_"_ _Hawke, I'm sorry."_

 _"_ _Sorry?"_

 _"_ _I should have-"_

_She pressed two fingers to his lips. "Shush. It doesn't matter now. I'll be seeing you soon."_

_She held on to him, and he kept quiet because it was what she wanted and he would have given her anything in that moment._

_He closed his eyes, his head resting against her shoulder. Was he really here with her? Did the Fade make it not real? It felt real enough, and he didn't want to wake from it. He just wanted to stay here with her. He wouldn't mind being locked in this moment forever. At least then he'd know she was safe._

_Maybe if he kept his eyes closed he wouldn't notice when he woke up._

At some point, the darkness of the Fade transitioned to the darkness of Fenris' tent. There was no thrashing this time. He hadn't woken anyone.

He removed himself from his bedroll and left the tent, trudging out into in the landscape, which was sandy but patched with grass and rocks. He kicked at the sand in his frustration, then picked up a rock the size of his hand and threw it as hard as he could. He kicked and yelled and threw rocks and pebbles until the anger left him and he fell out of breath to his knees.

A hand lay on his shoulder. "Fenris."

It was Inan. So much for not waking anyone.

"She's out there." He explained. "And we're stuck here."

"We're moving as quickly as we can." She told him. "Just another handful of days."

Fenris shook his head. "We should have been there sooner. She shouldn't have been in there this long."

"What do you mean?"

He stood and turned to face her. "I blocked them out." He explained. "The dreams, they were too much, and I took-" He resisted the urge to kick the rock at his feet. "She was reaching out for help, and my response was to ignore her because I couldn't take it. She needed help, and I wasn't there for her."

"Fenris, that's ridiculous." She said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm. "You didn't know what the dreams were."

"That's no excuse," he said, turning from her. "I should have tried harder."

"Fenris, you thought she was dead. We  _all_  thought she was dead." Inan turned him around to face her. "So what if you hadn't blocked out the dreams? What would have happened then? I didn't say anything to anyone, and you didn't think to say anything to me until Cole told you. How would torturing yourself have helped us find her any faster? You think that's what Hawke wanted from you?"

"She's in there," He told her. "Alone. And we're-"

"And we're going to get her out," said Inan, taking hold of him by his shoulders. "Okay? We're going to get her."

She didn't understand, and he didn't know how to explain. Every second they spent traveling was another second Hawke spent in the Fade. And each passing second was another moment where they might be too late.

His lip trembled, and he turned his head in an effort to hide it, but Inan saw.

"Fenris." She pulled him to her, hugging him.

"I can't lose her again." He told her, fighting against the tears that threatened to pool in his eyes. "I can't."

"You won't." She said, holding him tighter. "You won't."

"You can't promise-"

"Shhh, Fenris."

She rocked him and the tears came, though thankfully he wasn't reduced to the usual sobbing mess he'd been lately.

At length, he pulled away from her and wiped his face with his hands. "I am so sick of this." He told her. He was still waiting for the day to come when he could hold himself together properly.

She smiled at him. "I know the feeling."

He stared at her. He never would have guessed she felt as confused and torn apart as him. How had she managed to keep it all hidden while he didn't seem able to stop publishing his grief? Or maybe she hadn't been so lucky. Maybe there were those who knew… perhaps Varric or Dorian.

He didn't ask her, and she didn't elaborate, just took his wrist and led him silently back to the tent where for his sake Varric and Dorian were pretending to be asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Fenris tried to be less of an ass to everyone during their remaining days of travel. He even attempted to strike up pleasant conversation with a few of them. The Chargers had stories of battles they'd faced. And he and Iron Bull swapped a few stories of Seheron. He even apologized to Varric, who simply waved him off like he was used to his random outbursts.

Dorian, of course, was the exception to his efforts. But the mage had finally learned to stay out of his way, so the trip was fairly pleasant for both of them in that regard.

Mostly though, he kept to himself, his mind wandering to Hawke and wishing there was some way they could travel faster. Griffons would have been ideal.

At last, they reached Adamant. The sight was more underwhelming than he had imagined. What once might have been an impressive fortress now lay in rubble – the Chargers having torn it down thoroughly months ago. It was difficult for Fenris to imagine any battle having occurred to here, let alone one where Hawke and the others had fallen into the Fade.

Inan circled the rubble before deciding where to open the rift. She wanted to be as close to where they had originally fallen into the Fade as possible. This, she theorized, would ensure they found Hawke in the fastest way – assuming she hadn't wandered from the fear demon's domain.

It was all guesswork – guesswork that Fenris wasn't too happy about. He just wanted to get into the Fade and find Hawke. Wasting time to be precise about the rift's location seemed unnecessary. Just when he was growing so impatient he didn't think he could hold his tongue much longer, Inan declared them ready.

Fenris joined Inan, getting off his horse to stand beside her with Varric and Dorian. Iron Bull and the Chargers stood back a ways. They would remain outside of the rift and bring an end to any demons that wandered through.

Inan smiled at the Bull. "Not coming in this time?"

Bull gave a respectful nod. "Once was quite enough, boss."

She winked at him, then took a deep breath. "Here goes."

She raised her hand and the mark sparked. Fenris wondered if it was as painful as it looked. Then the air in front of them ripped open and spread apart – a green tear in the fabric of the world.

Inan took one last look at Bull and the Chargers before leading the way inside. Fenris followed. For an instant, nothing by bright green filled his vision. And then he was on the other side and the familiar landscape of the Fade greeted him.

"Hawke!" he shouted into the expanse.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Varric from behind him.

"The demons probably know we're here." Inan said. "I'm not sure yelling hurts us. Come on." She led the way forward.

Fenris didn't know how she could possibly know where she was going. And perhaps she didn't. The landscape of the Fade twisted and turned in every direction. Jagged rocks reached toward them like clawed hands, and a constant mist floated at their feet. At times they descended into caverns where only a single path was open to them. At others, the Fade stretched out before them, seemingly endless. Inan rarely hesitated. She just kept them moving forward. Perhaps that was the only thing she could do.

"Wait." Said Varric, holding out an arm to stop them. "Listen."

They were in an open area, like a rocky plain, though cliffs rose on either side of them. And something was coming toward them, giving off the sound of a hundred footsteps.

"Demons." Inan sighed and readied her staff. "I hate spiders."

As Fenris raised his sword, the mist at his feet rose around him and changed to a dense fog. And through the fog he could just make out the oncoming shapes of figures he knew from a nightmare in his past.

They were not spiders.

 

 

Even after the battle ended and Inan explained the demons were different for everyone according to their fears, Fenris was still shaken. How could Hawke have survived in this place for so long? He knew she'd faced endless waves of demons, and if they all carried the face of nightmares… He was certain he didn't want to face such fears again, yet Hawke had over and over.

He needed to get her out of here.

"Hawke!" He took up shouting again, hoping that she might hear him and head their way. He didn't even want to consider the infinitude of the Fade and the possibility that Hawke may have wandered beyond their reach. He  _would_  find her and he would bring her home.

They faced more demons on their search. And Fenris was just wondering how long they'd been in the Fade and if maybe this was hopeless after all when they crested a hill.

Hawke was standing in the valley below, her sword swinging madly at the demons surrounding her.

Fenris nearly tripped over himself as he fled down the hillside. When his feet found solid ground, he charged forward. He swung his sword, slashing straight through the first demon he encountered. Then he turned, putting his blade through another. He fought until at last the creatures were gone and he and Hawke crossed blades amidst the madness.

"Fenris!" she cried in surprise.

He dropped his sword and took her into his arms, barely willing to believe that this was real this time. But she felt real, her hair smelled real, and as he kissed her, she tasted real. And as he held on to her, his hands grasping as though to test that she was not a figment of his imagination, he no longer cared that they were in the Fade or that they had an audience.

Hawke was alive. And she was in his arms. And he was not losing her again.

He breathed her name as he held her, and she gave a strangled laugh as though she was in the same mixed state of disbelief and relief that he was.

"This is all very touching," came Dorian's voice, breaking into the moment. "But perhaps we should save the reunion for later. Like, when we're safely out of the Fade."

Fenris want to punch him, but as he pulled back and looked into Hawke's face, he knew the mage the right. The sooner they left this place the better.

Hawke, at least, insisted on kissing him once more before letting him go. Then she gave his hand a squeeze. "Let's get out of here."

He nodded in agreement and released her fingers only so he could pick up his sword from the ground.

Hawke strode to Inan and shook her hand. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course." Inan said. "I'm only sorry we couldn't get here sooner."

Hawke gave a nod and then dropped to her knees to give a shaken Varric a proper hug.

In no time, they were underway again. It proved much more difficult to retrace their steps as Inan paused at every crossroads or fork and consulted with Dorian over which way they thought they had come.

"How have you been surviving all this time?" Varric asked Hawke as they walked.

"How long have I been trapped?" she asked him.

Varric scoffed. "Months, at least."

"Months?" she looked puzzled.

"Does it feel like longer?" Fenris asked her.

"Yes," she said. "And no." She paused. "I don't think I've slept enough days to be here for months."

Varric threw up his hands. "It's the Fade. I'm pretty sure there aren't 'days' here. You've probably wondered around for hours before sleeping from exhaustion."

"It's certainly felt like that." Hawke admitted.

"What did you  _eat_?" asked Varric, full of questions.

"There's these green… things," said Hawke. "It's like… I don't really know what it's like."

"You don't know what it is and you just  _ate_ it?"

"I was starving," she told him. "Come to think of it… I feel like I've been less and less hungry the longer I've been here. Less tired too."

"With the food available in this place, I'm not surprised." Varric said. "You're going to have to tell me everything when we get out of here."

"I'm not sure this is a story you want to repeat, Varric." Hawke said.

Their conversation fell silent, and Fenris took Hawke's hand. He was certain if he never heard of the Fade again, he'd die happy. If Hawke ever did tell her story, he hoped he didn't have to listen. He was eager to be out of this place and forget all about it.

They faced more demons as they traveled. This time, Fenris charged eagerly into the fray, determined that nothing would stand between him and the way out.

At last, they found the rift. Hawke gave a sigh of relief beside him, and her paced quickened. They all stopped before the rift, and Dorian gave a sweep of his arm.

"After you," he said to Hawke.

She smiled and nodded, then stepped through. Fenris went after her.

For a moment, his vision was all green again. Then he was back in the Western Approach with Hawke and the Chargers scattered in front of him.

Hawke turned to him and smiled. And then her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

"Hawke!" Fenris ran to her, catching her just before she hit the ground. "Hawke." He shook her to no response. And then her body started convulsing and… was she phasing in and out?

"What is happening?!" he shouted over his shoulder at Inan, Varric, and Dorian who had appeared behind him.

None of them offered any answer. Fenris clung to Hawke even as he knew she was slipping through his fingers. He was going to lose her all over again.

And then Dorian's voice rang out. "Get her back through the rift. Now!"

It was the only option available to him. Lifting Hawke from the ground, he charged back into the Fade. The moment he reached the other side, Hawke's body weight returned to his arms as she solidified. The convulsions ended instantly. But as he laid her on the ground, she didn't open her eyes and he wasn't sure she was breathing.

"Maker, please." He breathed. It couldn't end like this. He couldn't have come this far only to lose her again. He didn't even understand what had happened.

He took her hand and brought it to his forehead as he bowed his head to his knelt knee. Praying was the only thing he could think to do.

If he'd looked behind him, he would have seen Inan watching the scene with a hand to her mouth. Varric had brought a fist to his and was biting down on a knuckle. Dorian simply stared with his lips slightly parted.

But for Fenris, there was only him and Hawke and his bargaining for her life. He would do anything,  _anything_ at all, so long as she lived. He would trade places with her, if he had to. But he'd be damned if he accepted the possibility of walking out of here without her.

Amidst his mutterings, he heard Hawke take a breath. As he looked to her, her eyes opened.

He lifted her shoulders and pulled her into his lap. She looked up at him in confusion. "What happened?"

Fenris turned to Dorian.

The mage jumped as though he hadn't expected the question would be put to him. He cleared his throat. "In my country, we sometimes keep spirits as servants-"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Do you pay them?"

Dorian paused. "Slaves, then." He corrected. "But to keep them from returning to the Fade, they have to be bound to something. If that binding breaks... well, they start convulsing and fading in and out – like Hawke did."

Fenris turned back to Hawke, just as confused as he had been before Dorian had answered.

Inan's voice sounded behind him. "Fenris, you might want to-"

"Wait a minute," said Hawke, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "What are you saying?"

Fenris looked to Inan who exchanged a glance with Dorian. "When we were in the Fade last time," she explained. "We met the Divine, or more a spirit impersonating her."

"This is ridiculous." Said Hawke. "I'm not-"

Fenris stared between the two of them. He was reaching the end of his limits. First he'd thought he was going crazy, then Inan convinced him Hawke was in the Fade, and now they were trying to tell him she wasn't Hawke at all but a spirit pretending to be her? He couldn't take much more of this.

"There must be something..." He tried.

"The spirit," said Inan. "Seemed to know everything about the Divine. I'm not sure..."

Fenris turned back to Hawke, and her eyes searched his face just as his searched hers. He refused to believed it. He simply refused. He did not come all this way and been through all this crap for nothing.

His mind scrambled for something, anything he might be able to use to prove that this was the woman he loved. "The demons," he said at last, looking at no one but Hawke. "They're different for everyone. What do they look like to you?" If this wasn't Hawke, surely a spirit wouldn't see the same creatures she would.

"They're undead." She told him. "Because..." Her gaze faltered. "Because of my mother."

Fenris turned to face his companions. Surely that was good enough.

But they didn't look convinced, and it was varric who said, "If a spirit has been watching Hawke, they might have known..."

Fenris couldn't believe this. There had to be some way to determine... He turned back to Hawke, who wasn't looking at any of them. Her gaze was on the ground, her expression a mix of confusion and grief. He lifted her chin so her eyes met his. He was not giving up on her.

"What do I see?" he asked.

"Yes..." came Dorian's voice behind him. "Spirits are single minded. If one of them wanted to impersonate Hawke, they would have focused singularly on her. The details of Fenris' life would be irrelevant."

Fenris barely heard Dorian's words. His attention was fixed on the woman in front of him. At his question, her expression fell, the confusion and sadness vanishing from it. Then her eyebrows knit together as she stared at him as though the answer might be written somewhere on his face.

For a few horrible seconds Fenris feared she wouldn't be able to answer. And then her brow softened with her widening eyes.

"Fog warriors." She said. "Oh, Fenris!" She threw her arms around him.

After his initial shock, he let out a sigh of relief and returned the embrace. "It's Hawke." Nothing could convince him otherwise, and if anyone else tried to suggest it, he vowed to silence them personally.

Pulling back from the embrace, he kissed her. She returned the gesture in earnest, and Fenris returned to not caring at all about who might be watching. Though, at some point he realized Dorian, Varric, and Inan were discussing options behind him.

"Could we bind-?"

"Would she last long enough outside of the Fade?"

"We don't even know if binding will work."

"It's too risky."

"What about-?"

Fenris stared at Hawke, his hand on her cheek, and he realized that she had been in the Fade for too long. The Maker only knew what she'd eaten while here. And she had said she'd felt less and less tired and hungry. Physical beings weren't meant to exist in the Fade. And it seemed the more time Hawke had spent in the Fade, the less of a physical being she had become. If they tried to take her from the Fade, there was no telling what would happen.

They had run out of options.

"I'll stay." Fenris said.


	11. Chapter 11

"What?" asked Hawke.

Fenris stood, turning from her. "I'll stay." He said more loudly, breaking into the argument before him. Dorian, Inan, and Varric turned to look at him. "It's not safe for Hawke to leave, so I'll stay."

"Fenris," said Hawke, standing and coming to his side. "You can't. This is no place to-"

He took her hands in his. "I would rather spend my life here in the Fade with you than live a thousand lives out there without you."

She stared at him, struggling for words. And then a single tear ran down her face. He brought a hand to her cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb. He'd already lost her once. He'd been serious in his resolve not to lose her again. If the price was spending the rest of his life in the Fade, he'd gladly pay it. His previous reservations about this all nonsense no longer mattered. All that mattered was that she was by his side.

She took a shaking breath. "This place..." Her voice faltered.

He wasn't looking forward to fighting demons forever anymore than she was, but it was better than the alternative.

"Maybe you don't have to stay here," said Inan.

They both turned to look at her.

"The Fade reflects your expectations," she explained. "If you expect to see a demon, that's what you'll find." She brought a hand to her forehead as she thought. "Solas took me to Haven in the Fade while we were at Skyhold. Theoretically, as long as it's somewhere you've already been, you should be able to go anywhere you want."

Hawke stared at her. "Anywhere?"

Inan nodded. "Think of somewhere peaceful."

"Peaceful?" Hawke shook her head. "Life hasn't been peaceful since... since Lothering... before the blight." She turned to Fenris. When she spoke, her voice was full of laughter as though she couldn't believe what she was saying. "Do you want to go to Lothering?"

Fenris shrugged. He didn't understand how any of this worked anymore than she did. "I've... wanted to see it."

"Okay." She turned back to Inan. "What do I do?"

Inan shrugged a shoulder. "Just... think of it?"

Hawke looked to Fenris, her expression telling him that this was crazy. Then she turned to Varric and knelt as he stepped forward to hug her. He said nothing to her, and when he pulled away, his face was stone.

"Take care of yourself." She told him.

He gave a nod. "You too, Hawke." Then he walked away, quickly.

Hawke rose and put out her hands for Fenris. "To Lothering?"

He grasped her forearms. And she held on to him just below the elbow. They stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them having a clue as to what was about to happen. Then Hawke closed her eyes.

The scene around them faded. The strange oranges and greens vanished, replaced instead with brown. Fenris and Hawke found themselves standing in a small village with cottages all around them.

"So this is Lothering?" he said. It seemed so large with just the two of them. "Not many people."

Hawke closed her eyes again and villagers suddenly appeared around them, walking to and fro as though they had always been there.

"How are you doing that?" he asked her.

She laughed. "I have no idea."

It didn't matter. He pulled her to him and hugged her. If they were going to make a life out this, he had no complaints. She was with him, and that was all he cared about.

Though, he never would have thought he'd end up spending his life in the Fade.

"You take me to strange places, Hawke."

She pulled back and laughed, remembering the line he'd given her as they'd battled to save the mages in Kirkwall. She smiled at him. "I'll take you to stranger places than this," she repeated.

He smirked. "I sincerely hope not."

And then he kissed her.

 

 

"Did they make it?" asked Dorian, staring at the place where Fenris and Hawke had vanished. "Do you think they made it?"

Inan nodded. "They made it. I know they did."

Beside her, Varric sniffled.

"Varric," she said.

"I'm not crying." He said, though his voice shook. "There's Fade dust in my eye." He sniffled again.

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Let's go home."

 

 

Varric rubbed his forehead as he stared down at the mess of papers in front of him. He glared at them all as though by the very look in his eyes they might organize themselves into cohesion. But writing, unfortunately, never worked that way.

"What are you working on?" Inan asked as she approached – her usual manner of greeting when she found him in front of a stack of papers.

Varric gave a heavy sigh. "The Tale of the Champion Extend." He said, his voice droning. "My editor wants me to add a new ending, one that involves Hawke's death."

"Not coming together well?" she asked.

Varric shook his head. "I wrote two versions, and I can't decide which one I prefer."

Inan leaned in, trying to read off the papers in front of him. Varric grasped them all in two large handfuls and flipped the pages over. "You know how I hate sharing unfinished work!"

She stared at him, waiting.

Varric sighed again. "On the one hand," he explained. "I have Hawke's death at Adament – plain, simple, bor-"

"A hero's death." Inan interjected.

"Yeah." Varric admitted, shaking his head from side to side. "It's sacrificial and for a good cause and all that. But I'm a romantic at heart – don't tell anyone." He added. "But I prefer the happy endings."

"And the happy ending?" Inan supplied when he didn't elaborate.

Varric massaged the spot between his eyes. "I don't want to think about the repercussions of telling the world we went into the Fade  _again_  and survived  _again_. That's a shitstorm waiting to happen. I had second thoughts writing the letters to explain to our friends – Maker, I hope Isabella burned hers..." He looked down at his pile of papers and dove his hands into them, disorganizing them purposefully in his frustration. "It's all rubbish." He said, at last, throwing up his hands.

Inan studied the pile as though some secret might be written on the back of the pages that Varric couldn't see. "Maybe," she said at length. "There's a way... you can do both."

Varric thought for a moment, considering the possibilities. Yes... yes, that could work. Then he sighed and gathered the papers into a useless heap. He hesitated, then threw them all into the fire behind him. "I was going to have to rewrite it all anyway."

 

 

The Tale of the Champion Extended

Varric Tethras

Author's Note

I would like to say that Hawke survived the battle at Adamant, but that isn't true. I would like to say Fenris' experiment to reach her in the Fade succeeded, but that isn't true either. The Fade claimed Hawke's life as she sacrificed herself to give her companions the chance to escape from the rift, and Fenris died in a broken-hearted man's attempt to see again the woman he cared for most in this cruel world. The truth is, heroes and lovers die, just like the rest of us, no matter how our favorite stories immortalize them. But the one thing that does give me comfort is the one great hope that any of us poor fools ever get - that after death our souls will be together somewhere, reunited at last. Fenris and Hawke deserved at least that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I entertained you, consider buying me a coffee: Ko-fi.com/heidirs
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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